Fire and Ice V: Trial by Fire
by Elorendil
Summary: Thrawn and Chiara have had 10 happy years together. But what happens when disaster strikes and his own people turn their backs on him? Can Thrawn stand in the face of the trial that awaits him, or will he be changed forever? Rated T for SciFi violence. I'm still as bad as ever at writing summaries, please R&R!
1. Prologue

AN: This takes place approximately 10 Galactic Standard years (about 6 Chiss year) after Pride & Prejudice, in c. 20 BBY. I will probably go back and fill in some of the gap later with a couple of short stories, but this was the next big one that came to mind. The tone of this one will be very much different from the other two stories, but please stick with me for a bit! I don't want to give the plot away, but I will promise I'm not the cruel, horrible person the first ten-ish chapters will makes me seem like. :p Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or the characters. Chiara is my own invention, everything else belongs to Timothy Zahn and Lucasfilm. Please don't sue me. :p

* * *

**Prologue**

Chiara strode through the grey corridors towards her destination, lightsaber bumping gently at her hip. She slipped through the open door of Thrawn's office and stole up behind him, slipping her arms around his neck and brushing her lips against the blue skin of his cheek.

Thrawn glanced up in surprise from the datapad he had been pouring over. "Chiara," he greeted her, giving her the warm smile that he reserved solely for her. His glowing red eyes flicked to the form-fitting, black jumpsuit that she was wearing. "Where are you going? You're not scheduled on any surveillance runs, today."

Chiara had learned to fly a clawcraft, the heavy fighters favored by the Chiss, shortly after they had arrive at the Crustai asteroid base. She had proved herself to be a quick study and very capable pilot, despite Thrawn's frequent jibes about the state in which he had found her and the prototype fighter she'd been flying when she ended up in Chiss space. She enjoyed the opportunity to get out of the base and explore the surrounding space, so much so that Thrawn had made her part of the duty roster for routine surveillance sweeps of the area. He had also come to rely on her for long distance reconnaissance that might be too much for one of his warriors. With her Jedi abilities, she could easily stretch out the fighter's supply of air for several days, enabling her to cover far more ground without the need of traveling with one of the cruisers for support.

"No, but you are about to ask me to do a reconnaissance mission on the Yavitri sector, based on that report," she said, nodding towards the datapad.

"You are getting far too good at picking up on what I am thinking, Jedi." The words and tone were stern, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes told her that he wasn't really serious.

"After six years, I know you well enough that I don't need the Force to figure that out," she countered. He was right, though; she could usually sense his mood and often tell what direction his thoughts were taking, these days.

"I suppose not," he said, standing and kissing her forehead. "Although it's not six years until tomorrow."

Chiara rolled her eyes. "Please pardon me for rounding it up by a day."

"And you are still as impertinent and reckless as you were on the day I met you," Thrawn told her, tracing the point of her ear with one fingertip.

"Admit it, you love me all the more for that," she laughed, kissing him lightly.

One blue-black eyebrow shot up. "I admit it freely. Just don't allow that recklessness to get you into trouble on this trip. All I want to know is how many ships there are, of what type they are and what they appear to be doing. Don't engage them; don't go poking around too much, and certainly don't land so you can look around. Just get a good look and come straight back."

"I will," she promised. "Care to see me off?"

"But of course," Thrawn told her. They walked through the corridors to the hangar bay hand in hand.

"Be careful," Thrawn said softly as they slowed to a halt beside Chiara's favorite clawcraft.

Chiara threw him a cocky grin. "Always."

Thrawn smiled back and shook his head slightly at her jaunty attitude. "So reckless." He glanced around to make sure none of the techs were within eyesight, then took a step towards Chiara, pressing her body against his own as his warm lips moved over hers. She twined her arms around his neck and ran one hand through his glossy, blue-black hair. With one hand on her lower back, Thrawn pressed her closer while he cupped her jaw gently but firmly with the other.

When they finally parted a long moment later, Chiara leaned back against the wing of the fighter to catch her breath. Thrawn's lips skimmed along her jawline and trailed down her neck.

"If you don't stop that, I'm never going to leave," Chiara teased breathlessly, pushing him away gently. Thrawn stole another sweet kiss from her lips before he finally released her.

"Don't be gone too long," Thrawn told her.

"I won't," Chiara assured him, stepping to one side and using the Force to leap up over the fighter and drop neatly into the cockpit. She popped her head out of the open canopy as Thrawn turned ands started towards the hangar door. "I love you," she called after him.

He turned back to her with a smile that Chiara could both see and feel echoing through the Force. "I love you, too. Be safe."


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Thank you for the follows/favorites, Thrawn74, al'verde and GabrielaTJ! And thanks for the review, Theo, I'm glad to see you found the new story.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Thrawn moved along between two of his warriors, his eyes following them as they scanned the area for telltale gas emissions from line creepers, but not really taking in the scene. A few of the vermin had apparently come aboard with the latest shipment of food and supplies and had started wreaking havoc on the station's electrical systems during the night. They had retrieved two of the long, worm-like creatures from power conduits where they had been busily chewing through wiring, but the power fluctuations continued throughout the base, indicating there were more of them out there. At the moment, though, his mind wasn't focused on the threat that the varmints posed. He glanced at his chrono, mentally counting the hours.

His comlink chirped from his belt, bringing his attention back to the situation at hand. "This is Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo," he answered, pulling the curved device from his belt.

"Commander, this is Lieutenant Mitth'is'arla," the voice at the other end of the transmission came back. "We found two more line creepers on this side of the station. They've been extracted and Chief Yal'avi'kema has a team working to repair the damage that they have done. From the looks of them, these creepers are young enough that we could be dealing with a nest that hatched after they arrived on the base, rather than just a few stowaways."

Which meant that there could be as many as fifty of the creatures crawling around the station, burrowing into conduits and wreaking havoc on their power supplies and wiring. If enough of them got into the life support or other vital systems, the base could be in jeopardy. "Understood." Thrawn paused. Mitth'is'arla had been in the command center when the last transmission had come in, he knew. "Lieutenant, how long ago did you receive the last transmission from Chiara?"

"Sixteen hours, sir. Isn't she back?"

"She is not."

There was a pause as Mitth'is'arla absorbed this information. It was only a thirteen hour trip from the Yavitri sector to the base. "Perhaps she stopped to check something out," he suggested.

"I told her to come straight back, before she left," Thrawn told him, the nagging sense of unease that had been clinging to him all day solidifying into dread. "She should have been back several hours ago." Thrawn considered for a moment. "Scan the _Whirlwind_ next, Lieutenant. I want it cleared and ready for launch in three hours."

"You think she is in trouble?"

"It is very unlike her to be several hours late and not even check in," Thrawn pointed out. "If she hasn't returned by the time the _Whirlwind _is ready, it is likely there is something wrong. Perhaps one of the line creepers made it into her clawcraft."

"Maybe we should start scanning the fighters before they launch," Mitth'is'arla suggested soberly. It was clear from his tone that he understood the possible implications of having a line creeper in something as small as a clawcraft. If it made its way into the life support systems, there were no backups or redundancies to sustain the pilot for long, and suffocating in the cold, hard blackness of space was not a pleasant way to go.

"A wise precaution," Thrawn agreed. It was also possible that she could have been spotted by the Laehcar. He doubted they would be pleased to find out the Chiss were poking around what Chiara had reported looked to be a new weapons manufacturing plant that they had built on an uninhabited planet. With her abilities, though, it was unlikely they could actually capture her and he found it far more likely that the heavy fighter had been damaged enough that she hadn't made it all the way back. In either case, it seemed likely that she would need their aid to make it back to the base.

* * *

Chiara didn't return in the time that it took for the _Whirlwind_ to be scanned and prepped to launch, nor did she come back in the two additional days it took to search the rest of the base and remove another two dozen of the line creepers. Thrawn sent the _Nightshade_ out to join the search after the _Whirlwind _came up empty handed in their first day of searching. Thrawn spent the time counting every minute that passed and battling the mounting sense of dread that rose in an inexorable wave within him.

Now that the line creeper infestation was under control, though, Thrawn reached for his comlink. "I want the _Springhawk_ prepped and ready to launch in fifteen minutes," he ordered, unwilling to stay out of the search now that the base was out of danger. Chief Yal'avi'kema was more than capable of supervising the repairs without him and, even with her Jedi hibernation trance, Chiara's life support system would be running perilously low at this point. _If we don't find her soon..._ Thrawn pushed the thought aside. They would find her. They had to find her.

* * *

Two days later, Thrawn sat stiffly in his command chair, muscles aching with fatigue and lack of movement. He hadn't left the bridge since they had launched from the Crustai base. The bridge crew had come and gone as the shifts changed, each group working with a quiet focus and intensity borne of knowing the severity of the situation. Over the years, the crew had come to know and love Chiara as she fought beside them and defended them. None of them even took a second glance at her ivory skin and odd eye color, anymore.

But after four days of searching had passed since the _Whirlwind_ had first set out, Thrawn could see that the crew's mentality was slowly shifting away from a rescue mission and towards recovery. Even he had to admit that the odds of finding her alive were almost non-existent and growing slimmer by the minute. Still, he refused to give up; after all, she was a Jedi and had surprised him by doing the impossible more times than he could count during their brief years together.

"Sir, the _Nightshade _is hailing us," the communications officer called softly, cutting into his thoughts.

"Put them through," Thrawn ordered tightly, torn between hope and dread at whatever news the _Nightshade_'s captain might have.

A tall, imposing Chiss woman appeared on the bridge display. The grim expression on her face told Thrawn everything he needed to know before she even spoke, turning his blood to ice in his veins and painfully constricting his heart. "Commander, we've found the missing clawcraft." She swallowed. "It has been destroyed, sir."

Not incapacitated. Not damaged. _Destroyed_. Thrawn felt the air go out of his lungs in a rush and he clutched at the arm of his command chair for support. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to take a steadying breath, fighting against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He opened his eyes to red slits and stared hard at the image of the captain, searching for some other possible explanation. "Are you sure it's our clawcraft? Not just some other ship?" He knew the answer, knew the captain wouldn't give him such news if she wasn't sure, but he had to ask.

She shook her head. "There are enough pieces left to be sure that it was, indeed, one of our own."

"And there is no evidence that Chiara-" his voice caught as he said her name. He swallowed, trying to get the words around the sudden tightness in his throat. He could feel the eyes of the entire bridge crew on him, watching his reaction. "-that Chiara ejected?"

"No, sir. The preliminary scans show that the wreckage is complete. I'm sorry, sir."

The sympathy in the captain's eyes scorched him. "Transmit your coordinates and stand by," he ordered brusquely. "Helm, lay in a course for the _Nightshade_. I want to see this for myself." His eyes burned into the captain's face, daring her to object or to tell him that coming himself was needless.

Instead, she simply said, "I understand, sir. We will hold our position and await you. _Nightshade_ out." The display winked out, showing only the distant stars glittering through the viewport where the captain had been.

Thrawn cleared his throat and stood. "I'll be in Forward Visual One," he said to no one in particular as the helmsman keyed for hyperspace and the stars stretched into starlines.

* * *

Thrawn wasn't sure how long he had been sitting numbly on the couch in Forward Visual One, watching without really seeing the glowing hyperspace sky as it flowed past the viewport. How many hours had he and Chiara passed in this room? Images and memories from the past six years passed before his eyes - the countless times they had spent the evening together on the couch, reading to each other or just enjoying each others company as Thrawn did his work. They had planned out numerous battles here, as well, debating this strategy or that one until they came up with the surest and most effective plan. He thought about the time that a crew member had walked in on them while they had been enjoying each others company, physically and how embarrassed they had all been. Thrawn had had a lock installed on the door, after that. There had been plenty of arguments in this room, as well. He could remember how angry she had been when she found out about Outbound Flight and his role in the death of her fellow Jedi. It had taken three days before she could even speak to him and several very lengthy discussions before she had finally been able to accept that he had never intended for their confrontation to result in the death of the Jedi and forgive him. And yet, for all the strife their differences in culture and opinions had caused them, they had always been able to come to an agreement, or at least agree to disagree, and their relationship had grown the stronger for it. But now all that was gone.

Too soon, the starlines coalesced back into individual stars. He could see the _Whirlwind_ silhouetted against the light of a distant sun. The ship's comm crackled at him. "Commander, we've arrived," the helmsman's voice came, stating the obvious. "We're moving into position now."

Unable to respond, Thrawn merely sat and watched as the _Springhawk_ sidled up to the _Whirlwind_. The two ships flicked on their floodlights, bathing the space in front of them in blazing light and illuminating the pieces of wreckage that drifted slowly. Drawn irresistibly, Thrawn stood and crossed to the viewport, staring out at the shattered remains of the clawcraft that had borne Chiara away from him. The vessel in which she had spent her last few minutes. Had she been afraid? _No_, he thought. _She would never have given in to fear. Chiara would have gone out fighting until the very last, and even then, she would have been shaking her fist in defiance of her attackers._ His heart squeezed painfully and his eyes burned as a tiny piece of wreckage bounced off the viewport. Jedi Master Chiara Matao, the only woman he had ever loved and the one for whom he had given up High Command, was dead. He felt something damp on his cheek and raised one hand in a sort of detached curiosity to brush at it with one fingertip. He stared at the clear drop of salty water that clung to his finger for a moment, his mind uncomprehending in the staggering face of his loss. Finally, his brain caught up and put a name to the moisture than ran down his cheeks in rivulets and dripped onto the uniform that was every bit as black as his heart felt, in that moment; tears.

For the first time since he had reached adulthood, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, warrior of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet, master tactician and Commander of Picket Force Two, was crying.


	3. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for the favorite and follow, Amirilyne!

Theo, I was horribly embarrassed when I discovered that I mistyped Thrawn's full name when putting it into spell check and that it had been changing it this entire time to the WRONG spelling without me noticing! I'm working on fixing it in the other two stories. I considered how I wanted to handle Outbound Flight and I do have a short story planned for later about it, but I like the book so much that I didn't want to alter it, much. I definitely agree that Chiara's presence could have made things go a lot differently, though. This definitely is a very different side of Thrawn that we are seeing. I don't think he feels any less than other people, I think it's more that he (and Chiss in general) aren't in the habit of wearing their emotions on their sleeve.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"What do you mean, my request for additional ships has been denied?" Thrawn demanded, unable to believe what he had just heard from the shimmering hologram before him. It had been nearly one week since they had discovered the remains of Chiara's destroyed clawcraft and, during that time, Thrawn's analysis team and his own examination of the circumstances that lead up to the destruction of her ship pointed to one obvious conclusion: the Laehcar were responsible for Chiara's death. He had submitted a request for additional forces to lead a strike against the weapons manufacturing facility that Chiara had reported being established in the Yavitri sector in her final message, both to avenge her death and to eliminate the threat this weapons facility posed against the Ascendancy. From what the Admiral had just told him, though...

"I mean you will receive no additional ships, Commander," Admiral Ondi'sckanti said coolly.

"Are you telling me that you expect me to eliminate this threat with three cruisers and a handful of fighters?" Thrawn snarled, unable to contain the anger and frustration that bubbled up within him.

"On the contrary, Commander. We expect you to make no attack of any kind. The Laehcar have made no move against the Ascendancy. We therefore have no reason to destroy their manufacturing facility, as you have proposed," the Admiral told him, his expression hardening.

"No move against the Ascendancy?" Thrawn repeated in disbelief, not bothering to modulate the tone or volume of his voice. "I have conclusive proof that they attacked Chiara without provocation. How can you possibly say they have made no move against the Ascendancy?"

"Do not mistake your dead mate for one of us," Ondis'ckanti warned him in a tone as frigid as the surface of Csilla. "She was an outsider and nothing more."

"How can you say that?" Thrawn exploded, spitting the words out viciously. "She contributed more to the Ascendancy in six years than many warriors do in an entire lifetime. She fought and bled beside us. She saved countless Chiss lives and, ultimately, gave hers in service to the Ascendancy."

"And yet, for all that, she was still an alien. Deeds cannot change bloodlines, Commander. She was _not_ Chiss," the Admiral said harshly, his hologram glaring at Thrawn across the lightyears that separated them.

"If bloodlines are all that matters, perhaps the Ruling Families ought to do away with the practice of having Merit Adoptives and Trial Born," Thrawn snapped, knowing he was crossing the line into insubordination and somehow not even caring.

"In light of the trying week you have had, I am going to forget that you said that," the hologram of the Admiral hissed, eyes narrowing red slits. "But you are an officer of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet and you will conduct yourself appropriately, Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Do not forget that."

_**Trying **week? Is that what he calls this? _Thrawn thought bitterly, biting back a commoner's curse that he wanted to fling in the face of the Admiral and his reminder of proper conduct. "What about the clawcraft that the Laehcar destroyed?" he demanded, refusing to give up. "Surely that can be seen as damages against the Ascendancy and justification for attack."

"We are willing to overlook that small loss. You would be wise to do so, too. Any attack on the Laehcar will be deemed in direct violation of military doctrine and dealt with accordingly." The Admiral regarded Thrawn for a moment in silence. "Look at this as another opportunity, Commander. With her out of your way, there is no nothing to stand between you and High Command."

Thrawn stared at the hologram, his jaw dropping open in shock at the callousness of the statement. _To hell with High Command, _he wanted to shout at the Admiral. Without Chiara by his side, Command would seem an empty accomplishment, indeed. _What does it matter now, anyway?_

"Commander?" the Admiral prompted.

"Understood, Admiral," Thrawn gritted through clenched teeth, not even trying to hide his contempt and barely contained fury. "Crustai out." He slapped viciously at the cutoff button, ending the transmission.

Thrawn slumped in his chair and glared impotently at the holotransmitter. _So this is the reward for all her years of service,_ he thought bitterly. Not only was she gone, but Command was forbidding him from taking the revenge that was his right, _and_ they had the nerve to tell him he ought to be grateful for this opportunity to pursue command, again. His throat burned with the grief that rose up inside him and threatened to pull him under its black waves, once more. Unbidden, her face on that fateful day sprang to his mind as she cheerfully popped her head out of the cursed clawcraft that now lay in shattered fragments in a storage box on the _Springhawk_. He could almost hear her voice as she told him she loved him for what would be the last time. _And it was my orders that put her in that ship,_ he thought in despair.

Just then, the door alert sounded and the door hissed open, snapping him out of his self-recrimination. "Commander, what word from Command?" Lieutenant Mitth'is'arla asked, stepping into Thrawn's office.

"We will not be receiving the additional support that I requested," he told the other thickly.

Mitth'is'arla's eyebrows shot up. "They said no? And yet they still ordered the attack?"

Thrawn balled his hands into fists and let his eyes fall half-closed. "The attack will continue as planned," he said carefully, making up his mind. Orders or not, Chiara had been under his protection and he could not, would not let this final duty to avenge her death go unfulfilled. "It will simply require that much more care in the planning of the attack for us to manage it with the resources at hand."

To his credit, the Lieutenant managed to snap his jaw shut almost as soon as it had fallen open in amazement. "They expect us to defeat them with just the ships of Picket Force Two?" he asked, incredulous.

Thrawn opened his eyes again and met the Lieutenant's gaze. "The attack will continue as planned," he repeated evenly.

Mitth'is'arla swallowed, clearly understanding what Thrawn hadn't said; that this was to be an unsanctioned attack. "I understand, sir. I will have a tactical analysis of the manufacturing plant's defense capabilities within the hour."

Thrawn watched as the Lieutenant swiveled in military precision and strode out the door. Thankfully, the other seemed to understand that the less Thrawn told him about his conversation with High Command, the better it would be for him. Any of the crew that was privy to the details of Thrawn's conversation with the Admiral would also be held responsible for their actions. Claiming ignorance to that exchange was the best defense they could have and Thrawn was determined that the crew would not share in his fall. The blame for this would rest solely on his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his datapad and pulled up the small scan he had of several flats and paintings of the Laehcar, determined to find a strategy that could be achieved with the limited resources he had on hand.

* * *

Three days later, Thrawn stood on the bridge of the _Springhawk_ as the rest of his tiny fleet formed up around them, knowing full well the consequences of the actions he was about to take. Some part of him knew that Chiara would be angry with him for throwing everything away like this when it wouldn't bring her back. He could almost hear her throwing his frequent, teasing comment of "reckless!" back in his face for what he was about to do, but with far more fire behind the word than he ever used. The ache in his chest intensified as her voice echoed in his head. He rubbed his eyes wearily and tried to focus on the status boards that surrounded him, making sure that everything was ready. Unable to bear sleeping in the bed he had shared with Chiara for so long, he had spent the last few nights tossing and turning on the too-short couch in his quarters. The unyielding grief and lack off sleep was wearing on him, but he needed all of his faculties if he was to carry out this attack successfully. He thumbed a stim pill from the bottle in his pocket and swallowed the capsule dry, forcing his sluggish mind to review the plans for the attack.

"Sir," Mitth'is'arla broke in to his thoughts. "The _Nightshade _and the _Whirlwind _await your orders. The fighters are standing by, as well."

With an effort, Thrawn straightened and crossed to his command chair. He could feel the stim starting to course through his veins as he sat, banishing all weariness from his mind and limbs. He focused his glowing eyes on Mitth'is'arla's. "Then let us begin," he told the other tightly. The Lieutenant nodded sharply, then turned and began issuing orders into the comlink.

Thrawn watched as the _Nightshade _and her escort of three fighters flickered with pseudomotion and made the jump to lightspeed and the countdown began for them to follow. This was it. By the time today was over, Chiara would be avenged and he would likely be on his way to a court martial.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Three months later_

Thrawn lay unmoving on his narrow bunk, staring bleakly at the blank grey ceiling. Bone weary and filled with heartache, he wished he could close his eyes and sleep. He knew what awaited him in his dreams, though; for the last two weeks, every time sleep found him, he had been forced to watch helplessly as Laechar ships converged on a single clawcraft. Every time, he heard Chiara call his name, call to him for help, but he was paralyzed, unable to reach her. Every time, he woke trembling just as her clawcraft was blown into shrapnel.

A noise outside his tiny cell drew his attention. "I'm sorry, but I was ordered that no one was to see him-" his guard was saying.

"And I am countermanding that order, Ensign," a prim voice snapped. "Now open this door or I will be forced to write you up for insubordination!"

"Y-yes, General," the young guard stammered, fumbling at the lock.

Thrawn pushed himself upright just in time to see the door slide open and Anisi stepped through. She turned back to the guard who was hovering just outside the door, his hand lingering near his charric in case Thrawn decided to make a break for it. "You can go; he isn't going to attack me. I'll call for you when I am finished."

The Ensign glanced uncertainly at Thrawn, then decided that he had better follow his orders. The door shut with a hiss and Thrawn heard the soft snick of the lock engaging. Anisi locked eyes with him, a look of pinched concern on her delicate features.

"General," Thrawn said with a curt nod, breaking the silence.

"Don't 'General' me, Thrawn," Anisi chastised gently, dropping down on the bunk beside him. "We've known each other too long for that." She put one hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry about Chiara. I came as soon as I could, but it took a while to come up with a reason that was good enough to come back to Csilla."

Thrawn's throat constricted painfully at the mention of her name. "Thank you, Anisi," he choked out, covering her slender, blue-skinned hand with his own.

"Being here is the least I can do. I don't know if I will be able to stay for the entire trial, but I will try. I know Daithi is trying to make it back, as well," she told him. "Shixan and Thimas would come if they could, but they are too involved in their posts to be able to come home, at this point. Fisix... well, it's probably just as well that he isn't here. He'd cause more ruckus than he's worth."

Thrawn nodded mutely, grateful for their support.

"I heard that you were planning on defending yourself," she continued after a moment of silence. "Rather than allowing someone more experienced in these matters to represent you."

"I do," he said simply. "I've defended myself on the last two trials, as well."

"And what exactly did you have planned for your defense?"

"That Chiara's death should have been all that was needed to justify my attack. That she had been among us for long enough and done enough that she should have been granted the same status and consideration as any other warrior," Thrawn told her.

"You know you can never win that argument, Thrawn, "Anisi said gently. "I may agree with you, but the Ruling Families are too set in their ways and opinions to be swayed on that. You need to find a better defense."

"It is the only one I have and the only one that matters," he responded with a half-hearted shrug.

Anisi shook her head at him, frown lines creasing her smooth brow. "Thrawn, you know what is going to happen if you are found guilty of violating military doctrine and convicted of an immoral attack against the Laechar. They will exile you to some remote world for the rest of your days. You can't really want that. It's exactly what is going to happen if you try to use that as your defense, though."

"What does it matter, now?" he asked dully, staring at the far wall.

Anisi gripped his shoulders and shook him hard enough to make his teeth rattle. "Snap out of it, Thrawn," she bit out. "I know you miss her. But do you really think this is what she would have wanted? She spent her life serving others. Would she simply sit back and let you throw your life and your skill away so that you can no longer serve our people if she were here? I understand why you attacked the Laehcar and I have no qualms with you for that. But you can't just sit back and let Command ship you off to some world where you will be of no help to anyone at all. Our people need you. You cannot turn your back on them, now."

That finally was enough to garner a reaction from him. "How dare you tell me what I can and cannot do," he snapped, his eyes blazing with sudden fire as he shrugged her hands from his shoulders. "I offered our people my life in service alongside Chiara. They are the ones who threw it away, not me. They had no justification to deny me the right to avenge her death, a right they would have granted to any other warrior who had been paired with a Chiss. So don't lecture me about turning my back on our people; they turned their backs on me."

"So you intend to simply walk away, then? Is that what Chiara would have done? How many times did she continue to serve our people and put her life at risk, despite the persecution she faced time and time again because she was an outsider?"

"Don't presume to lecture me, Anisi. She's gone." His voice broke on the word. "What she would have wanted or done hardly matters, now."

Anisi stared at him in silence, her expression unreadable. Finally, she rose and rapped sharply on the door of the cell, summoning his guard. She turned back to Thrawn just as the door opened. "One more thing, Thrawn. What she would have wanted should still matter to you, if you loved her. If you can't see past your own grief to honor what you know would have been her final wish, then you didn't deserve her."

The words hit him like a slap in the face. He tried to find a retort, but Anisi spun on her heel and stalked out of his cell. Thrawn stared at the door for several moments, knowing in his heart that she was right. He could almost see Chiara, standing with hands planted on her slender hips, scolding him heatedly. Thrawn heaved a sigh and got up to retrieve his datapad. He settled back into the bunk and started looking for a better defense. 


	5. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry for the delay, guys! I got sick on Wednesday, and I've already put in 50 hours at work, this week. And I have to work tomorrow, too, even though it's a holiday. No rest for the wicked. :-/ Anyway, without further ado, here's the next chapter. I'd love some feedback. TBH, I was quite surprised there wasn't a riot in the streets over me killing off Chiara.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Two weeks later, it was all over. After Anisi's visit and her very pointed words, Thrawn had thrown himself into planning his own defense with relentless resolve, but to no avail. It had been clear from the beginning that the entire trial was a sham, a facade to allow the Ruling Families to dispose of him legally. Apparently, they had grown tired of his carefully orchestrated plots and webs of intrigue that had allowed him to get away with the Outbound Flight fiasco, as well as a number of other, smaller scale pre-emptive attacks that he had conducted. It hadn't taken him long to realize that High Command had deliberately denied him permission to engage the Laehcar to provoke him into something they could label as an immoral attack. It galled him that he had allowed himself to be so easily manipulated by them, and yet, he regretted nothing about how he had extracted his revenge and razed the Laehcar's base and weapon's manufacturing facility to the ground.

Thrawn leaned back against the wall of his cell and fingered at the torn edge of his uniform where they had ripped the badge of the Eighth Ruling Family from his shoulder. The elaborately tooled silver bars that had rested comfortably against his throat for years were also gone, stripped away along with his rank and status as a warrior of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet. If he just closed his eyes, he could almost feel Chiara's cool fingers brushing his throat as she pinned the rank insignias to his collar. Ever since the day she had teased him for not thinking to put them on his collar before putting on his uniform and he quipped back that perhaps he had been struggling with them so she would put them on for him, she had made a point of always fastening them to his collar for him in the mornings. Now, the symbols of his rank were gone, just as she was. Thrawn swallowed hard against the emotions that welled up within his chest and threatened to drag him under oppressive current, again.

"-can't go in there! He's been put in solitary confinement," a voice protested from just outside his cell, breaking into his thoughts.

"Do you know who I am, Ensign?" Anisi's voice demanded, the full weight of her regal authority dripping from each word.

"Ahhh, yes, General, but that doesn't change the fact that my orders say-"

"Well then, I am issuing new orders," Anisi snapped. "This prisoner is to be remanded into my custody until his escort off-world is ready in the morning."

"With all due respect, General, I think I should check with my superiors before I do that," the guard insisted.

"Unless I missed something, _Ensign_, I am your superior," Anisi growled, leaning on his rank. "Now unlock this door."

Thrawn opened his eyes as the Ensign finally capitulated, but didn't move from the spot on the floor where he was sitting against the wall. A moment later, the door opened and Anisi, Daithi and Shixan all stepped through. The later had made it back for the reading of his verdict and sentencing. As an officer of the CEDF, she'd also been required to attend his dishonorable discharge, along with the other two, and watch as High Command had slowly stripped him of every rank and privilege that he had spent his life building.

"If you're planning my escape, you can forget about it," Thrawn told them, letting his head rest against the cool metal as he gazed up at them. "I will not see you destroyed by my fall, as well."

Daithi shook his head at him. "Of course not, Thrawn. We all know you wouldn't want that. But you shouldn't have to spend your final night on Csilla alone. We'll have you back before..." he trailed off.

_Before dawn_, Thrawn thought. Before they shipped him off to some remote planet as punishment for his supposed crimes. "What did you have planned for me, then?"

"We thought we could go back to my house and spend the evening there," Anisi told him, giving him a quick once-over. "You're going to have to change, first, though. You know you can't go out in that uniform, now."

Thrawn glanced down at the black outfit that had been his constant companion for so much of his life. Occasionally, warriors who served the Fleet faithfully throughout their lives and retired in good standing were granted special dispensation to go on wearing the uniform. The simple, grey jumpsuit that had been provided for him was still neatly folded on his bunk, untouched; he had intended to wait until the last possible moment to take off his uniform for what would be the last time, before he was escorted to the ship that would take him to his planet of exile. Still, trading a few hours of wearing his uniform for the companionship of his closest friends seemed like more than an even trade.

"Very well," he agreed. Shixan and Anisi turned their backs to give him some privacy while Daithi pretended to cover him with his charric to humor the still nervous guard outside his cell. Shixan snapped a set of binders around his wrists when he was done and drew her own charric, prodding him in the back for show as they marched him out of the cell.

Thrawn waited until they made it off the base to speak again. "Would any of you object to moving the festivities to my home instead of Anisi's?" he asked sardonically.

In near unison, all three of his friends halted. "I didn't think you would want to go back there," Daithi observed. "I'm sure there are many memories..."

Thrawn swallowed. "That's precisely why I would like to see it one last time."

The three of them glanced at each other, as if in silent communication. "If that is what you want, Thrawn, that is what we shall do," Anisi told him after a moment.

The four friends changed course and set off across the city in the deepening twilight as the lights of the dome dimmed to mimic to the fading light of the sun on the icy surface of Csilla. Thrawn was half afraid that a squadron of warriors would come charging after them at any moment to haul him back to his cell, but they reached the doors of his home without incident. Thrawn stood before the door for a moment, trying to steady his breathing and quiet the painful thumping of his heart. Finally, he turned to his friends. "Would you mind giving me a moment?" he rasped out through suddenly dry lips.

"Of course." Shixan stepped forward and removed the binders from his wrists and motioned towards the door. Taking a deep breath, Thrawn keyed it open and stepped inside.

He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting - some overwhelming rush memories or emotion, perhaps? All he found was a deep sense of emptiness and acute awareness of what was missing. It had been Chiara's vibrant smile and playful words that had made this place a home; before that, it had merely been a house where he stayed on his rare trips to their homeworld. Her warmth of mind and body was what had given it a sense of belonging; her acuity of mind and insight, its worth. With all that gone, it reverted to being simply a place to stay once more.

Thrawn passed out of the narrow entry and into the living room and sank down on the couch where they had spent countless hours together, reading, planning or just conversing quietly. His gaze strayed to the painting that hung on the far wall, taking in the familiar swirls of patterns and colors. Restlessly, he got to his feet again and wandered into the kitchen. He could remember the near disastrous cooking lesson he had attempted to give Chiara shortly after they arrived, during which she nearly set the kitchen on fire, but it seemed so far away and removed now, almost as if it had happened in another life or to someone else.

His feet took him to the study where they had planned out the Crustai base together, debating and carefully mapping out each facet of the design. His gaze strayed to the desk where Chiara had assembled her new lightsaber, his mind going back to the inscription she had etched into the handgrip. Her voice drifted through his mind, reciting the words she had painstakingly inscribed on the weapon as a symbol of the new chapter in her life, a chapter that had been cut far too short:

_Your love for me gives me worth,  
your glance transfigures me in my own eyes,  
you lift me lovingly above myself,  
my guardian spirit, my better self!_

Heartsick, Thrawn slipped out of the study and shut the door. Unwilling, yet drawn, he went to their bedroom. His glowing eyes took in the room, now so empty without her here. He riffled through her drawers, which were bare aside from a few civilian outfits that had no place on a military base. He held up a blue top that was startlingly low-cut in the front and tried to picture her in it. She had never gone out in public in it, he knew, but had worn it once or twice when they were staying in for the day simply because she knew he liked it. Try as he might, though, he couldn't summon any image of her in the alluring shirt. Sighing, he let it slip through his fingers and closed the drawer.

He went to the closet next, pulling out the only dress that Chiara had ever owned or worn. He thought back to the gala that Thrass had thrown in celebration of his promotion to Force Commander and the wonderful evening he and Chiara had spent dancing in each others arms. He ran a finger over the silky fabric, remembering the pride he had felt as he watched her whirl about the dance floor with the Aristocra and the impression she had made that night on so many. He slipped the dress from the hanger and crossed to the bed to sit down, rubbing the fabric between thumb and forefinger. _What I wouldn't give to go back to that night,_ he thought wistfully. His glowing eyes strayed to the pillow that she had seldom used during their short time here in Csaplar - she had always preferred to nestle in his arms, usually with her head resting against his shoulder or chest, a habit that he had always been more than happy to accommodate. He felt the rings of grief tighten a little more around his chest, stifling his breath as the fact that he would never again hold her in his arms while she slept struck home once more. Thrawn sagged towards the bed as the waves of anguish mounted within him. He clutched the gown to his chest, clinging to it as if to an anchor in the midst of a raging storm at sea.

Thrawn lost track of time as he gave in to the endless turmoil and agony that he had been holding at bay during his trial, fearing that it would bring with it the crippling despair that had paralyzed him before Anisi's visit to his sparse little cell. By the time the emotional hurricane had passed, he felt spent, weary far beyond anything he had ever experienced before. Suddenly realizing that he had left his friends waiting outside for some indefinite period of time, he sluggishly hauled himself to his feet, leaving the dress on the bed.

As he headed for the door, his foot slipped on something he hadn't seen. Frowning, he bent over and ran his fingers along the floor. A small square of flimsiplast caught under one fingernail and scooted across the floor. Hardly daring to breathe, Thrawn picked it up and opened it with care. His throat constricted painfully as his gaze fell on the flowing script written there in Chiara's hand. It was, as he had suspected, the note she had stowed in his pack on the occasion three years ago when he had been called back to Csilla and had found it necessary to leave her behind at the Crustai base to oversee operations in his absence. He had thought it lost when he had unpacked upon his return to Crustai. Now, as his eyes burned as he read her words again, he was grateful that he had dropped it here. He finished reading it and carefully refolded it before slipping it inside his jumpsuit, next to his skin. He wasn't allowed to take anything with him into exile, he knew, but he was determined to have this one last reminder of her, at least. He would find a way to take it with him, somehow.

Taking a deep breath, Thrawn headed into the living room to rejoin his friends and let them inside. It came as somewhat of a surprise to see them sitting silently in the living room, each of them nursing a glass of heavily spiced ale.

"I found it in your pantry," Anisi said simply, handing him a glass. "I'm sorry if we are intruding, but we were starting to get very odd looks, lingering in the street, so we let ourselves in."

Thrawn shook his head at her. "You are never intruding, Anisi. You are my friends and the only ones who have stood by me over the last six years. We have all been through a great deal together. My only regret is that I will not be there for your next promotion, or when you are paired or have your first child. I wish-" he broke off, unable to find the words to continue. Anisi nodded her understanding of what he hadn't said.

Daithi laid a hand on Thrawn's shoulder. "You have been every bit as good a friend to us as we have been to you, Thrawn. You've gotten us out of trouble more than once and you also taught us that worth is not found in the color of a being's skin, but in their heart. I'm sorry that we cannot continue to share this journey together."

"I propose a toast," Anisi said, raising her glass. "To Jedi Master Chiara Matao, who walked among us for far too short a time; may she live forever in our memory. And to friends."

"To Chiara and to friends," Thrawn echoed in unison with Daithi and Shixan. He drained his glass and settled in to the couch beside Daithi, prepared to share with them the last night they would have together as friends.


	6. Chapter 5

AN: I was listening to My Immortal, by Evanescence on the drive home from work and it nearly made me cry. I think it fits Thrawn's situation so perfectly! I hadn't even thought of it, before. *sigh* I know this has all been a bit depressing, but stick with me for a few more chapters and I promise you will be glad you did.

**Chapter 5**

Thrawn stood on an unfamiliar world, squinting up at the fading glow of a starship's drives. It had taken nearly three weeks to get here, which suggested that the planet that was to be his prison was located on the outer edge of Chiss space, probably not too far from where he had intercepted Outbound Flight several years before. _Assuming that they didn't take the long way in an attempt to throw off my calculations, _Thrawn thought. Not that they need have bothered; with two generators and two boxes of tools and other goods, he wouldn't be leaving this planet under his own power.

The twin drives of the ship disappeared into brilliant blue sky, leaving Thrawn alone. He took a deep breath and focused on his surroundings. The most pressing priority, he decided, was finding a source of fresh water. He had enough rations to last a few weeks, as well as the equipment to run tests on the local plant life to determine what was edible. Utilizing that equipment would be his second order of business.

Thrawn crossed to where the boxes had been left in a small clearing and carefully pried one open. A quick examination of the contents showed two spools of monofilament line, a small hunting knife, a medkit, an assortment of cooking gear and a supply of rations. Thrawn strapped the hunting knife to one thigh and then set the lid of the first box back into place. A search of the second box revealed one spare set of clothes, an extra set of boots, a few blankets, a tool kit and a few other odds and ends. _So these are the items I am granted with which to live out the rest of my life, _he thought glumly. He carefully sealed up the two boxes before setting out, canteen in hand, to try to locate a water source. At least he had been able to successfully smuggle Chiara's note onto the planet. And, as he had privately told his friends the on that final night on Csilla, he harbored a hope that perhaps a scout of Darth Sidious would come across him, at some point. After all, the Dark Lord had expressed interest in Thrawn's service on more than one occasion. Unable to leave his post without compromising his integrity, he had politely declined all such offers, carefully leaving the possibility open for the future. He could only hope that the Dark Lord hadn't tired of his refusals and given up, just yet.

Thrawn's glowing eyes flicked back to the sky. _If he has, I will simply have to find another way off this planet._ Not that it would be easy, but Thrawn had all the time in the world. Anisi had been right; Chiara wouldn't have wanted him to give up. No matter how many slights she had been paid or injuries she had suffered at the hands of his people, she had never faltered in her determination to serve and protect them. Watching some sort of avian fly overhead, Thrawn vowed once more that he would honor her memory by continuing to seek to serve the Chiss until his dying breath.

He only hoped that dying breath wouldn't happen any time soon.

* * *

Thrawn awoke, shivering. He had been on this planet for nearly three uneventful months. During that time, he had succeeded in building a small shelter, setting up an effective line of traps and scoping out his surroundings for approximately 20 visvia in each direction. All had gone relatively smoothy, aside from a nasty sting he'd received from an odd insect covered in short, downy hair while gathering food. His hand had swollen to nearly twice its normal size and felt like it was on fire for nearly two days. He'd quickly learned to identify the nests of the insects and avoid them.

Now, however, it seemed that some disease or other illness was attacking his body. For the second day in a row, he lay huddled beneath his blankets, his muscles wracked with tremors and his skin ablaze with fever. Thrawn stretched one trembling hand out from beneath his blanket, shivering as the perceptibly colder air flowed across his skin, reaching for the bottle of water beside his pile of blankets. He sipped at the cool water, knowing that his body was on the edge of dehydration, yet knowing he didn't have the strength to walk to the small stream that ran to the north of his modest camp. There was only half the bottle left. Once that was gone, he would have to either crawl to the small clearing or risk succumbing to the fever and dehydration.

Thrawn let his head droop back to the skin stuffed with dried grass that he used as a pillow, exhausted in spite of his sleep. _This illness is too severe_, he thought to himself. _I have no choice but to use some of the medication I was given._ Although he had been given a generous supply, it was finite and he had hoped that he wouldn't have to use any so soon. It seemed he had no other option, though. Rolling over onto his stomach and forcing himself to his hands and knees, Thrawn crawled over to the box that kept his tools and supplies safe from the many small animals that roamed the forest that was now his home. His hands shook as he tried to open the seal, making it difficult to manipulate the clasp that held the lid in place. Finally, with some effort, he forced it open and groped inside the box for the small container of medical supplies. Thrawn spilled half the contents onto the floor as he opened it with shaking hands and groped among the vials for the immune-boosting serum that should enable his body to fight off whatever virus or bacteria was currently attacking it. He loaded it into the hypospray and pressed it against his neck, feeling a sharp pinch as the medication was injected into his blood stream and began to disperse through his system. Still shivering, Thrawn crawled back under his blankets and sipped a little more water.

As his eyes drifted wearily closed, he felt something brush his cheek. Fearing that some predator had made its way through the defenses of his meager dwelling, Thrawn reached for the knife that lay concealed under his makeshift pillow. Fully awake and with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Thrawn opened his eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow. But instead of an animal hovering over him, he saw a familiar face.

"Chiara?" he breathed, surprised by how hoarse his voice had become. She just smiled at him and swept her fingertips over his cheek again. His heart leaped at her touch. Had she somehow survived the destruction of her fighter, despite all evidence to the contrary, and found him here? _No, it can't be. I saw the clawcraft, myself. This must be a hallucination, brought on by the sickness or the medication, or perhaps a combination of both. _

As Chiara leaned over and kissed him gently on his sweating brow, though, he couldn't help but think that he didn't mind this particular hallucination. The specter of Chiara slipped under the blankets with him and lay a cool hand against his burning cheek. "Sleep," she whispered in his ear, her lips brushing against his cheek as she spoke.

Thrawn shook his head, fighting off the blackness that was edging in on the corners of his vision. "No," he told her, trying to raise a shaking hand to touch her. His arms muscles had stopped responding, though. "I know this isn't real, but I don't want to sleep. You will be gone when I wake up."

She smiled at him. "You need to rest to give your immune system a chance to fight this off, Thrawn. You may not see me when you wake up, but I will always be here." She placed a hand over his heart. "And I will always love you, no matter what."

His vision had narrowed to two tiny tunnels and he fought to keep her face within that narrow field. The blackness engulfed him and the last thing he saw before he drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep was her deep blue eyes staring back at him.

* * *

When Thrawn woke again, his throat was parched and his eyes felt like they were filled with space dust. He groped for his water and downed the last of it in one long pull. His muscles, he noticed, had stopped trembling and his fever seemed to have abated. He felt weak from fatigue and lack of food, but clearly the medication had done its job. He tried sitting up experimentally and was satisfied to find that he could do so with only a brief wave of dizziness. He got to his feet and went to his small food supply, knowing that he needed to eat something to rebuild his strength. The plants he had gathered early in the day before he fell ill had all wilted and withered to the point that they were inedible. A few pieces of dried meat remained, the result of one of his recent trapping successes that had brought in a small, furry quadruped with long, floppy ears and a wet, pink nose. The creature tasted even worse dried than it had freshly roasted over a fire, but he was so hungry that he ate the chewy strips anyway. He thought about the hallucination he'd had while he ate, speculating to himself on whether it was a result of the illness, fever, or medication. He'd had similar medications in the past without this particular side effect, though, so he found that unlikely. Thrawn eventually decided that the most logical explanation was that it had been the result of the high fever he had been running, at the time. He was surprised to find that the sight of Chiara's face and her touch had not re-awakened in him the raw, consuming grief that had ravaged him for many sleepless nights when he first arrived on this planet.

Thrawn crossed to the box he had left open in his feverish search and carefully lifted out the small, tightly wrapped package that was tucked in one corner. He had cut a small section of the waterproof material left for him and bound it around a small, precisely folded piece of flimsiplast. Removing it with care from its protective wrappings, Thrawn pulled the flimsi out and read the words that he had committed to memory for what had to be the hundredth time since he arrived on this forsaken planet. When he finished reading it, he let his gaze drift over it one more time, studying the flowing script of Chiara's handwriting. Yes, he still missed her more than words could say, but somehow the grief seemed more bearable than before. He was grateful for this single piece of her that remained to him in the form of a note. As he contemplated the piece of flimsiplast, Thrawn's throat began to burn once more with intense thirst. He quickly rewrapped the precious note and stowed it away in the corner of the box where it would be safe. Picking up the small canteen, he got shakily to his feet and headed out towards the cool stream that bubbled nearby.


	7. Chapter 6

AN: Thanks for the favorite, Zaconator and Zackis!

I decided not to rehash this entire story, since you guys are all presumably familiar with Zahn's novella, Mist Encounter. Here is just a bit of it from Thrawn's perspective, though. As always, reviews are appreciated!

**Chapter 6**

_19 BBY_

Thrawn was bending over one of his more complex traps, resetting it after he had killed the small _visimch'or_ that he had found ensnared in it, when he heard the sound. Snare and game alike both abruptly forgotten, he straightened and strained to listen. It was like music to his ears: the distant but unmistakable whine of a starship's engines. A higher pitched whine joined it, followed by the stutter of laserfire. Abandoning his hunting activities, Thrawn strained his eyes up at the bright sky, searching for movement, but the trees were in the way. Choosing the largest tree near him, he quickly climbed it, aiming for the highest vantage point possible to watch the incoming vessels.

The first ship, a mid-sized freighter, rocketed into view, barely skimming above the treetops. Two small fighters with a ball-shaped cockpit and hexagonal wings screamed in behind it, spitting laserfire. Intrigued, Thrawn watched as the fleeing ship's own weapons spat in return. It was clear from the fighter's ponderous movements that either the ships were poorly designed or their pilots lacked experience in maneuvering through atmosphere. Either way, the slow movements of the craft made them easy targets for the freighter and it took only six shots before the first fighter exploded into a ball of light and fire. _A pity,_ Thrawn thought. The explosion had been too major for their to be anything left that could be of use to him. A few more salvos of brilliant laserfire were exchanged between the combatants before the remaining fighter began billowing smoke and began a long, lazy arc towards the ground. The freighter continued its harried flight, disappearing from his view as it reached the edge of the forest and continued on, hugging the ground for cover.

Clearly, there was some sort of conflict going on between two different groups. Thrawn doubted that the two small fighters had any hyperspace capability, which meant there had to be another ship in orbit. A tight smile touched Thrawn's lips as he slid to the ground and set off for his small camp at a run. Conflict of this sort was just the sort of thing he knew how to use to his advantage. A plan already forming in his mind, he hurried to gather the supplies he would require.

* * *

Barely a day later, Thrawn slipped silently out of the transport he had stowed away on and into the vast hangar bay of the ship they had landed in. His plan had gone off without hitch, thus far; all he needed to do to complete it was choose a ship to steal and make his escape. Keeping to cover as much as possible, he crossed stealthily to the line of ships against the far wall of the hangar. He paused for a moment, sizing them up. Selecting a small shuttle craft parked in the center of the row, he snuck inside.

He was still familiarizing himself with the controls of the ship when he heard footsteps echoing through the bay. Knowing he had been discovered, Thrawn got to his feet quickly and drew the odd handgun he had scavenged off the dead fighter pilot. He cast around the small cockpit for a place to hide, but there was nowhere. Thrawn took a step towards the back of the ship, hoping to find better cover there, but footsteps thundered up the boarding ramp of the small shuttle, cutting off any hope of escape. Abandoning stealth, he stood calmly in the entrance to the cockpit, handgun ready and waiting for whoever was coming.

A group of four armored troopers charged into the cramped space, leveling their larger, more powerful weapons at him. Thrawn noted that their armor, bearing and behavior was identical to that of those who had served as reinforcements for the human troops on the planet. "Drop the weapon and keep your hands where I can see them!" the first trooper barked at him, his voice coming out oddly accented through the filtration system of his helmet.

For a moment, Thrawn considered feigning that he didn't know Basic, as he had done with Jorj Car'das and his companions. He quickly dismissed the possibility, though; he had been the one in the stronger position in that situation and he had done it largely to appease his own curiosity. Chiara had been gone for several months, by that point, and not only did he miss her intensely, but he had also been interested to meet others from the Republic and see what else he could learn about the region of space she had once called home. This was not merely an exercise in mental acuity where the worst possible outcome was for Car'das to find out he had been lied to and that Thrawn had known Basic all along; this could very well mean his life or death.

Moving with deliberate slowness, Thrawn dropped the handgun into the pilot's chair and held his hands out to the side, palms outward to show that he had no other weapons in concealment. One of the armored warriors moved forward and snapped a pair of binders around his wrists while the other three kept their weapons trained on him. The one that had bound his wrists gave him a rough shove towards the boarding ramp. "Move," he commanded.

Contemplating how best to use this turn of events to his advantage, Thrawn allowed himself to be marched down the ramp and two humans that stood waiting.

"Welcome aboard the Victory Star Destroyer _Strikefast_. Do you speak Basic?" the older man asked.

Thrawn studied him with glowing eyes. Clearly, this man was in command. The other one, the man staring at him with barely concealed disgust and hostility, seemed to be some sort of officer. He considered for a moment, debating whether or not it was prudent to allow them to see just how fluent he was in Basic. They might wonder where he had obtained such fluency in their language. "Some," he said finally.

"Good," the one in command said. "I'm Captain Parck, commander of this ship. What's your name?"

Thrawn's gaze was already drifting around the hangar bay as the Captain introduced himself, analyzing its equipment and the strength of its ships now that the lights had been turned on and he could see more clearly. In no hurry to complete his assessment, he waited a long moment before he brought his eyes back to the Captain, settling in for the conversation that would determine the course of his future. "I am called Mitth'raw'nuruodo."

* * *

Two and a half weeks later, Thrawn stood on the bridge of the _Strikefast_ along with Captain Parck, staring out the viewport at the planet before him. He carefully kept his jaw from hanging open in shock and awe. Chiara had described Coruscant to him on multiple occasions, but nothing could possibly prepare him for the sight of the booming ecumenopolis.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" Captain Parck said, coming up beside him. "I've been here more times than I can count, but this place never ceases to amaze me."

"It is impressive," Thrawn said in as disinterested a tone as he could manage, his eyes on the bridge displays currently showing the flowing lines traffic that moved above the planet, trailing brilliant, evermoving rivers of light across the surface. He wondered what Chiara had truly thought of Csilla after growing up here. Even for all their technology and culture, their frigid world and homes buried under the ice must have seemed truly primitive to her when compared with this. His heart ached at the thought of her. He had always hoped that perhaps someday they could return to the Republic together. Not permanently, of course, but so she could show him some of her favorite worlds and so he could learn more about this region of space. That dream had diad a sudden and painful death, along with all the other hopes he had harbored for their future together. Now, he stood here alone, gazing down at the planet that was the closest thing to home she had ever known before he found her. The irony of the fact that she had left this place behind to serve the Chiss and that he was now giving up his life in the Ascendancy to come here and serve the Empire was not lost on him.

"Come, we shouldn't keep the Emperor waiting," Captain Parck told him, leading the way off the bridge.

* * *

As Thrawn skillfully navigated one of the Kappa shuttles down through the atmosphere and the clutter of traffic, he marveled again at the immensity of the cityscape that had swallowed an entire world. Spires of buildings stretched into the sky like fingers reaching up to grasp at the stars and the lights from orderly traffic moved across the planet like streams of lava. Following the homing beacon and instructions Parck had given him, Thrawn carefully eased the shuttle into one of the lines of traffic. He was acutely aware of the Captain sitting beside him in the copilot's seat, watching his every move to insure that he didn't send them careening into one of the other ships or buildings.

As he approached their landing pad, Thrawn's gaze fell on what clearly used to be a majestic building, complete with four spires and an immense pilar in the center. From the research he had done on Coruscant and from Chiara's descriptions, he knew this was the Jedi Temple where she had spent her early years. The once proud structure was now blackened and burned, clearly falling into disrepair. He swallowed as he gazed out at it, unable to look away. From what he had been able to gather while studying the history of the fledgling Empire, the Jedi had risen up against the former Republic and been destroyed for their rebellion. That didn't seem to fit with what Chiara had told him of the Jedi, though, or with what he had observed from her in their years together. _Perhaps she was not a typical Jedi,_ he thought to himself, finally succeeding in wrenching his eyes away from the sight. _She admitted freely that she had her disagreements with the Council. Perhaps they strayed from their path as the protectors of peace. _Whatever the answer, he didn't expect to find the truth in the documents of this Empire: any new regime would automatically sterilize and rewrite any portions of history that cast them in a less-than-favorable light, he knew.

And yet, not even knowing if the Empire had indeed been justified at wiping out Chiara's Jedi brethren, here he was, preparing to offer his services to their Emperor. What would she say if she could see him now? _Stop it,_ he told himself harshly. _She's not here. She's gone, and it is my fault for sending her on that mission. She left the Jedi Order to be with me and to serve the Chiss. In joining this Empire, I will be serving my people in the best way that I can. In a way, I am continuing on the work that she left behind. Surely she would understand that, if she were still here. _Shaking off the nagging uncertainties that hung over him like a black raincloud, Thrawn guided the shuttle confidently to their landing pad and set them down with the lightest of bumps as the landing gear touched down.

"Well done, Thrawn," the Captain complimented him as he shifted the shuttle's systems to standby. "You've learned to pilot these shuttles in short order and navigating Coruscant is not an easy thing to do. I'm impressed."

Thrawn inclined his head politely. "I have had excellent teaching, Captain." The Captain himself had taken a personal hand in Thrawn's introduction to Imperial procedures and training, often spending several hours a day in intensive tutoring with him to be certain that he was prepared to meet this Emperor Palpatine.

Parck gave him a knowing smile. "Save your flattery for the Emperor, Thrawn. You'll need it there more than anywhere else. Now, let's go and introduce you to our glorious leader."


	8. Chapter 7

AN: meline387, it took me a while to work Thrawn getting drunk into the story, but here it is! I dedicate this chapter to you. It's probably not quite what you had in mind, but I hope you like it, anyway.

* * *

**Chapter 7  
**

_17 BBY_

"Congratulations on your new rank, Lieutenant!" Captain Parck told him, giving Thrawn a wide smile. "I do believe you've set a new record for completing Imperial Academy training. Officer training normally takes three to four years, depending on previous command experience. But then, I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised when this is coming from you."

"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn returned coolly. "I understand I am to be assigned to the _Strikefast_. It will be an honor to serve under your command, sir."

The Captain's grin widened a bit more. "Always one step ahead of the game, aren't you? Yes, you've been assigned to the _St_, though the official listings of new officers won't be posted until tomorrow. We'll be putting out from the shipyards in another two days. You'll like the _Strikefast,_ she's one of the finest ships in the Navy."

"I have been over the specifications of the designs for Star Destroyers. I would agree that this it shows marked improvements over other warships, though I am still of the opinion that the addition of shock nets or ion canons to the arsenal," Thrawn told him bluntly.

"Well, I don't design them, Thrawn, I just command them. Now, what do you say we hit the Twin Suns tapcaf to celebrate?"

Thrawn lifted one blue-black eyebrow at his commanding officer. "I didn't think it was permissible for a commanding officer to drinking with a junior officer."

"It isn't," Captain Parck agreed. "Luckily, you're not officially on my duty roster, yet. Come on." He grabbed Thrawn's arm and steered him towards the turbolifts. "I've heard you never go out with the other officers. We're going to fix that right now."

As the sun set over Coruscant, Thrawn found himself in a tightly packed bar filled with patrons of every species imaginable. The variety of citizens in the Empire still surprised him after living among the isolationist Chiss society. The Empire had its own xenophobic tendencies, though, and made it abundantly clear that non-humans, Thrawn included, were second-class citizens and often went out of its way to make life difficult for them. His fellow recruits at the Imperial Academy had made a habit out of trying to humiliate him at every opportunity, but he had made a point of keeping himself above their heckling and trickery. His high marks in all of his classes spoke for him and he had quickly earned the grudging respect of all of his instructors. He often wondered if this was what Chiara had felt like when they first arrived on Csilla and she had faced the ostracism of his people.

The Captain clearly looked slightly uncomfortable among such mixed company and Thrawn had decided several hours ago that he had chosen this particular tapcaf over the more exclusive cantinas that catered to fleet officers only solely for his benefit. Thrawn had been chased out of the elite restaurants that dedicated themselves to the Imperial Navy on more than one occasion for being a non-human. Thrawn was grateful that he at least didn't have to worry about that indignation, tonight.

"...and then we high-tailed it back to the Glythe sector in time to intercept the pirate's main attack force. It was a close thing, though," the Captain said, finishing his tale. He and Thrawn had been seated quietly in a corner booth for a few hours now, swapping stories of old battles and glorious victories. Or, rather, the Captain had been telling him stories of campaigns he had taken part in; Thrawn merely sipped at his Correllian Whiskey and listened, still unwilling to reveal any information regarding Chiss battles or tactics. The Captain poured himself another glass from the bottle of Whyren's Reserve and raised one eyebrow at the Chiss. "You still haven't told me anything about your military experience, Thrawn," he pointed out. "I'm sure you have plenty of tales of your own to tell. Let's have one of them."

"Is that an order, sir?" he asked stiffly, swirling the whiskey in his glass and watching the golden liquid.

"Of course not, man! I'm not asking you to give me any ship specifications or locations of your bases. Certainly you have some story that wouldn't divulge any sensitive information," he pressed.

Thrawn sipped at the fiery beverage, savoring the woody flavor as he considered. "There was one battle that took place outside of our borders," he finally said. "The S'remos had attacked one of our colony worlds and I was assigned the task of eliminating one of their bases as a threat. This base was shielded, though, and had several weapons platforms that were more than capable of pounding us into spacedust before we could so much as weaken their defenses. I devised a two-fold plan that included a ground team landing without any sensors or running lights in the dead of night to avoid detection and then infiltrating the base and sabotaging the shield generators. Chiara lead the infiltration team and not only did she manage to disable the gen-"

"She? You have women in your navy?" the Captain asked, interrupting.

Thrawn cursed silently at his slip. He hadn't meant to mention Chiara by name; he knew the danger he would be in if anyone ever realized that he had been involved with a Jedi. _Too much whiskey_, he told himself. With his faster metabolism, it normally took quite a bit of drink for him to feel even the slightest bit of impairment. Clearly, though, he'd had enough over the last few hours for it to begin to effect him. He pushed his glass away with one finger. "We do. There are no gender roles in our culture as there seems to be here," he told the Captain.

"And this Chiara, she served under you?"

Thrawn's voice caught in his throat as he tried answer, the old, familiar ache at hearing someone speak her name returning. "Yes, she did," he got out, clearing his throat.

The Captain raised one eyebrow at him, clearly assessing his reaction. "She wasn't just another warrior serving under your command, was she?"

He knew he should deny it, but somehow, refusing to acknowledge his attachment to her seemed tantamount betraying her memory. Thrawn sighed. "You are correct. She was..." he paused, searching for the word. What was it that Chiara had accused him of treating her like that day in the market in Csaplar? _Ah, yes, a 'trophy wife.' _"She was my wife. Or, perhaps I should say, the Chiss equivalent thereof."

"And where is this wife of yours now? Waiting for you back home?"

Thrawn sighed and shook his head. "She was killed in action approximately three standard years ago." Had it really been that long? Sometimes, it still seemed to him like it happened just yesterday. He could feel her note rubbing gently across his skin where he always concealed it in an inner pocket of his uniform.

The Captain paused for a moment, clearly caught off guard by Thrawn's answer. "That is most unfortunate. You have my condolences."

Thrawn merely nodded, reaching for his discarded glass and taking another sip to try to soothe the burning sensation in the back of his throat. He could not, would not, show his lingering grief in front of his superior officer.

"And that is why you have ignored every invitation or opportunity cast in your direction since you arrived," the Captain said, more to himself. Thrawn felt his back muscles go rigid. Yes, he had carefully diverted a few offers from a female officer or two. He knew they were only hoping to ride his coat tails to make it through Academy, anyway. If the Empire was unaccepting of non-humans, they were even more harsh on any female who tried to join the fleet. "You haven't been with anyone else since she died, have you?"

"I fail to see what my personal-" Thrawn began stiffly.

The Captain cut him off with a waive of one hand. "You need to relax a bit, Thrawn. Ever since I brought you to Coruscant, you have been ruthlessly single-minded in your work at the Academy. I am willing to wager that you didn't even make any real friends or connections during your time there, did you?"

"Aside from you, no, sir," he conceded a bit unwillingly.

"I thought not. And I presume you have avoided attachment to another woman out of fear that you would be despoiling and dishonoring her memory by being with someone else." It was more of a statement than a question, but Thrawn knew that the Captain had struck the nail on the head.

"Yes, sir."

"Drop the 'sir,' Thrawn," the Captain ordered him. "Just for tonight. Let me tell you something; I was a married man, once and I also lost my wife. Lost her to a horrible disease that slowly sapped her health and her strength. I had to watch her slowly wither before my eyes and I was powerless to stop it. When she finally passed, I thought I would never be whole again. I spent years avoiding women. Then, one day, I realized that I wasn't doing anyone any good by refusing to let go of her memory. Seeing other women was the best thing I ever did, short of marrying her and joining the Imperial Navy. It didn't lessen her memory or dishonor it, but it gave me other things to think of and to look forward to."

"I do not think-" Thrawn started, but the Captain cut him off with an upraised hand.

"Just hear me out, Thrawn. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but at least let me talk. I'm sure you still miss her and I'm sure you still think about her every day. I know I did. But you can't hang on to memories forever. Just try it, I think you will find it helps to take your mind off what you've lost," Parck counseled him.

Almost unwillingly, Thrawn looked up from his glass and met the Captain's eyes. He saw there a faint echo of his own pain. "Do you really think it would help?"

"There's only one way to find out." The Captain pointed across the room to where a scantily clad, red-skinned Twilek sat in a booth with two others. "She's been making eyes at you all night. Why don't you ask her for a dance and just see where things go?"

Thrawn swallowed hard. He felt like it would be cheating on Chiara, even though he knew he had the right to select a new woman to be paired with after her death. And, here, the Chiss rules of permanent pairing wouldn't apply. If it might help to ease the searing ache that took up residence in his chest each night when he retired and regularly kept him awake for hours, perhaps it would be worth it. Making up his mind, he slapped the button at the center of the table to summon their server. A silvery droid with a serving tray attached to its torso rolled up to their table a moment later.

"What can I get for you, gentles?" it asked in a distinctly feminine voice.

"Give me one of whatever your strongest drink is," he told it. "On second thought, make that two of them." He certainly wasn't going to do this sober and he had yet to try any alcohol here that came anywhere close to the strength he was accustomed to in the _ htisah ch'atvuwuti_ he had favored from Csilla.

"Right away, gentles," the droid assured him in a prim voice as it whizzed off through the crowd.

Parck raised one eyebrow at him. "I know you hold your liquor well, but are you sure that's a good idea?"

In answer, Thrawn tossed back the whiskey still in his glass in one gulp. By the time he had finished, the droid was back and sliding two foaming black drinks across the table to him. Thrawn picked one up and sniffed at it. It smelled positively foul, but he steeled himself and lifted the glass to his lips, draining it all at once. He had to fight not to gag as he set the empty glass back down. "That," he choked out, "Was the vilest drink I believe I have ever had."

The Captain stared at him from across the table. "A Black Nova isn't exactly made for human tastes, or near-human. It's quite potent, too; the last time I saw a cadet drink one on a dare, he was blacked out within ten minutes and had a hangover that lasted for days."

Thrawn made a face. Yes, it was strong, alright: he could feel the slow burn starting in his fingertips and working its way up his arms. "Thankfully, I'm a bit more tolerant of alcohol than you humans," he told the Captain. He picked up the second glass and stared at it for a moment, still trying to covince himself that this was a good idea. _It can't possibly make things any worse than they already are,_ he told himself, tipping the second glass back and emptying its contents, as well. His vision was already starting to blur ever so slightly by the time he set the glass down and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. "Captain, I will see you in the morning," he said, orienting himself towards the Twilek female that the Captain had pointed out earlier.

"Good man," he heard Parck call softly after him. "And good luck."

* * *

When Thrawn awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache and in an unfamiliar bed, he was momentarily disoriented. He blinked against the murky light filtering in through the window, trying to remember what had happened. A sound to his right caught his attention and he turned his head slowly towards the source, wary of the dizziness that always inevitable accompanied his hangovers - and froze. Laying next to him, naked skin glistening in the early morning light, was the Twilek girl from the tapcaf the night before. Suddenly, all the memories of the previous night came flooding back to him. At Parck's suggestion, he had asked her to dance, watching as she wove an erotic circle around him, her lithe form moving gracefully and seductively in time with the music. She wasn't much of a conversationalist, but neither of them had been particularly interested in talking. After downing another of those foul Black Novas, he had allowed her lead him home.

That was when it all seemed to go wrong. Once they were alone in her modest bedroom, as she deftly unbuckled his uniform and slipped out of the plunging, netted suit she had been wearing, her every move and every seductive whisper did nothing but remind him of Chiara. The stark contrast between the woman he had loved and this woman whom he barely knew had been too much for him: Nothing she did and none of her responses to his touch felt right. He had found himself thinking only of what it had felt like to hold Chiara in his arms, of what it had been like on their first night together. All he had wanted to do was to push those hands away from his body and repulse her lips from his. Not wanting to insult or hurt her, though, he had finished out the night with her.

And now he lay awake in the pale light, staring at the ceiling, skin crawling with revulsion at what he had done. He wondered if he could slip away without waking his bedmate and if that, too, would be considered an insult. She lay near the edge of the bed, one hand dangling off the side as she slumbered on her back. Once she had finished with him, she hadn't wanted him to touch or hold her. Not that Thrawn had particularly wanted to, but this once more served only to remind him of how Chiara had always wanted to be held afterwards. Her face swam upwards from his memories and hung in the air before him. He could almost feel her perfect body pressed against his and his skin tingled with the memory of her touch. Thrawn closed his eyes, trying to block out the too bright morning light and her face, but he could still see the image of her lying tucked against his side as they woke together in the early morning.

Thrawn was on the verge of giving in and trying to slip away quietly when his Twilek companion opened her eyes and gave a cavernous yawn. When she saw that he was awake, she rolled towards him and reached one hand under the sheets, a wicked look in her eyes. Thrawn caught her wrist and firmly pushed the hand away.

"Senzina, no," he told her with forced gentleness, suppressing the urge to slap her hand away and tell her how much her touch disgusted him. His reaction, he knew, wasn't her fault.

"But why not?" she whispered huskily, leaning over to bite his earlobe playfully and wrapping one leg around him.

Thrawn shuddered and extracted himself from her grip as quickly as he could without risking hurting her, sliding out of the bed and as far away from her as he could. He looked around for his discarded uniform and retrieved it from the floor. She froze in the middle of the bed and sat there, staring at him. "I'm sorry," he told her as he started pulling the crumpled clothes on. "I shouldn't have..." he swallowed. "Senzina, please understand, it's not you. I just can't."

Not even waiting for her to respond, he hurried out the door, still fastening his tunic.

* * *

Two hours later, after a shower and a trip to the medbay to get some medication for what promised to be the worst hangover he'd ever had, Thrawn walked wearily into the Officer's mess on the base. He'd had to skulk in the shadows to make it back to the base without anyone noticing his badly rumpled uniform, but he was fairly certain he'd made it back to his quarters without being spotted. The last thing he wanted to add to this fiasco was getting written up for disorderly appearance. He dropped into the dimmest booth at the back of the hall and ordered a steaming pot of caff and a plate of nerf sausages with tubers.

Captain Parck appeared about the same time that his order did. The older man dropped into the both across the table from him and just raised one eyebrow expectantly. Thrawn studiously speared a tuber, avoiding the others gaze.

"You look like you had a long night," Parck observed, keying in his own order for breakfast.

"I would rather not discuss it," Thrawn told him stiffly, wincing at the throbbing in his temples. "And, please, keep your voice down. Whatever it is that the med droid gave for this headache hasn't taken effect, yet."

"That good, eh?" the Captain asked, raising one eyebrow suggestively. He saw Thrawn's dark expression as he cut his nerf sausage a bit more vigorously than was actually necessary. "Or that bad?" he said, his tone dropping sympathetically.

Thrawn lifted his glowing eyes to send a scorching glare at his commanding officer. "I said I would rather not discuss it, sir."

"That bad," the Captain muttered under his breath.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_14 BBY_

A lone Star Destroyer cruised through the Unknown Regions, its commander clearly unintimidated by the latest reports of carnage from the Laehcar that had taken place less than a system away. The _Strikefast_ had only made a handful of forays into the region, but it hadn't taken long for word to spread amongst the local troublemakers that the massive ship was nothing to tangle with.

"Captain, the _Springhawk_ is requesting permission to dock," the communications officer advised.

Thrawn turned fractionally from the viewport to glance at Captain Voss Parck. The older man straightened from where he had been bending over the sensor station to examine the latest data and nodded crisply. "Tell them that their usual landing bay is ready to receive them," the Captain commanded.

Thrawn turned his attention back to the viewport, watching as the familiar shape of the ship he had commanded for so many years appeared and skimmed along their hull towards the hangar bay. In the wake of Thrawn's exile, Prard'aith'isa had been promoted to captain and given command of the _Springhawk_. When the Emperor had first started allowing Thrawn to undertake missions into the Unknown Regions to subdue the many threats that lurked in the regions beyond Chiss space, Daithi and his crew had been the seek him out and offer their services. As word of his return had begun to spread among the Chiss, as well as the stories of victories he achieved with a relatively small task force, more warriors had begun to appear. None had been more welcome than Thrawn's oldest friend and former ship, though.

Their campaign to bring the innumerable threats in the Unknown Regions and beyond to heel had been slowly but steadily gaining strength over the last year. During the times when Thrawn's duties to the Empire recalled him to Imperial space, Daithi lead their small task force and worked unceasingly to gather intelligence to aid Thrawn in planning their next attack. Over the last few months, the Emperor had granted him the use of the _Strikefast_ for his plans and their success had been stunning. It had taken a bit of work to help the Chiss and Imperial crews learn to work smoothly together, but the Chiss had proven themselves easily adaptable to new combat techniques and flourished under the opportunity to engage their enemies without being bound so tightly by the strictures of Chiss military doctrine.

Now, nearly eight years after Thrawn had begun urging Chiss High Command to take action against what he saw as the imminent threat posed by the Laehcar and after nearly as much time being ignored by them, he finally had his opportunity to eliminate this threat for good. His strike against the Laehcar weapons manufacturing plant that lead to his exile had certainly set the warlike species back, but it had by no means been sufficient to destroy them. Thrawn's eyes glittered in anticipation as he considered the battle and inescapable annihilation he had planned for the Laehcar's forces. When he was through with them, they would never again pose a threat to a simple starfighter, like the clawcraft Chiara had been flying the day they shot her down.

"I presume you will be directing the battle from about the _Springhawk _again, Lieutenant?" The Captain's question broke into Thrawn's thoughts, bringing him back to the present.

"That is indeed my plan, sir," Thrawn confirmed. He still found it the slightest bit uncomfortable to be issuing orders when an Captain was present at the battle, but Parck clearly recognized his tactical superiority and had never objected to following Thrawn's directives in these instances.

The Captain got to his feet. "Let us adjourn to the ready room to review this plan of yours and review the latest intel. I want to make sure that when we hit these bastards, we hit them hard enough that they won't be able to cobble together a mouse droid with the scraps we leave them."

"Yes, Captain," Thrawn said, smiling tightly. By the time tomorrow came to an end, so too would the reign of terror that the Laehcar had inflicted on this region of space for far too long.

* * *

"Well done, Lieutenant," Thrawn said. "Your warriors performed admirably. Begin releasing the captives; the medics will set up here to treat any who are injured."

"Yes, sir," Thisa replied, already organizing his warriors and sending them down the long corridors to start freeing the prisoners. The space battle had been vicious but brief, with the _Strikefast _and her complement of TIE fighters, as well as the _Springhawk_ pounding the Laehcar's forces into spacedust in relatively short order. The ground battle, however, had been a different story entirely. Thisa had lost half a dozen Chiss warriors in the melee and nearly a dozen more had been injured. He had heard that the Imperials had lost an entire platoon of storm-troopers and sustained heavy damage to one of their Chariot Light Assault Vehicles, as well. Still, given the skill the Laehcar possessed at hand-to-hand combat, Thisa thought the day had gone relatively well.

As the captives began slowly filtering out of their cramped cells, guided by the Chiss warriors, many looked shocked at the sudden change in their fortune. A few seemed confused or hesitant to believe that this wasn't some sort of trick and that their captors weren't going to reappear at any moment. Most were able to walk out on their own, but a few required support or even a medical litter to leave the cramped confines of their cells. Nearly half the prisoners had been released when one of the warriors called to him.

"Sir, I think you're going to want to see this," he said, beckoning. He lead Thisa to a dark cell at the far end of the corridor. The door had no fewer than seven locks on it, all of which had been cut away with a cutting torch and now lay smoldering on the ground. The stench of an unwashed body filled the air and he could see dried bloodstains on the door that now stood open. No light came from tiny, damp cell.

Trying to breathe through his mouth to keep the smell from overpowering him, Thisa stepped to the open door and looked down at the wretched creature who was the occupant. Pity filled him as he saw the gaunt, naked figure that was chained hand and foot. The chains weren't even long enough to allow her to lie down properly and she was currently dangling by her wrists, clearly unconscious, head lolling back at what looked like a painful angle. Most of her hair was missing and what little was left was caked with blood and filth.

"Is that who I think it is?" the warrior asked, crowding into the doorway beside him.

The unconscious prisoner stirred slightly at his voice and muttered something that sounded vaguely like Cheunh. Frowning, Thisa took a closer look at the still figure, her sunken cheeks and the scars that criss-crossed her body. He gasped as his gaze fell on her elegantly pointed ears, feeling his entire body go rigid.

"Get Mitth'raw'nuruodo," he said hoarsely, dropping to his knees in the cramped space. "And a medteam. And bring me the cutting torch."

He shrugged out of his tunic and draped it over her, trying to protect her ravaged skin from the sparks and drops of molten metal that the cutting torch would inevitably produce. He had cut through both chains on her ankles and one of the ones on her wrists when Thrawn appeared behind him.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" he asked mildly. "I know the jamming signal hasn't been shut off yet, but one of the warriors just came dashing through the building in a most unbecoming fashion to find me."

"Sir, it's..." Not even daring to say the name that had become taboo in Thrawn's presence, Thisa pointed.

Thrawn's gaze followed his gesture and he froze in place as his eyes fell on the unconscious prisoner's face. "Chiara?" he breathed. Thrawn shoved Thisa out of his way and knelt beside her still form. "Get me a medical team. Now!" he choked out.

"They're on their way, sir," Thisa assured him.

Thrawn's glowing eyes took in the scene and the blood that was now running down her arm as all of her weight hung on the one remaining shackle still attached to the wall. "Give me the torch," Thrawn said, his normally sure and steady voice beginning to tremble. Wordlessly, Thisa passed it to him. Thrawn turned it on with shaking hands, then shook his head and switched it off. "You do it. Your hands are steadier than mine." He handed the torch back to Thisa and shifted in the cramped space, propping Chiara up to take the weight off her wrist while Thisa cut through the last chain. Thrawn was so intent on Chiara that he didn't even flinch when a bit of glowing metal dropped onto his neck, scorching the skin. As soon as she was free, he gently cradled her emaciated body against his chest and tucked Thisa's tunic around her shoulders. The medics appeared a few minutes later and Thrawn reluctantly allowed them to take her from his arms and load her onto the stretcher.

"Lieutenant, I'm going to leave the rest of the operation to you. If you need me..." Thrawn glanced at the medics who were clustered around the stretcher and swallowed. "I'll be in the medbay."

* * *

Daithi caught up with Thrawn halfway back to the _Springhawk_.

"Thrawn, I just heard the news. Is it true?" he asked, craning his neck to try and see the occupant of the stretcher that the medics were pushing along in front of them.

"If you heard that I left Chiara in the hands of one of the most despicable races in the galaxy for over five years, then, yes, you heard correctly." The lines of tension on Thrawn's face were so deep that it looked as if his face had been etched from ice.

"Thrawn, you couldn't have known-"

"Don't comfort me with empty platitudes," he bit out. "I allowed my grief to blind me to whatever clues there were that she was still alive and she is the one who suffered for it. Suffered for five years."

Knowing it was useless to try to reason with him and wishing Anisi were here to talk sense into him, Daithi craned his neck again as the medics maneuvered the stretcher around a corner. He gasped in shock when he managed to catch a glimpse of her.

"Yes, now you see the damage my inattention caused," Thrawn said bitterly.

Daithi grabbed Thrawn's arm and forced him to stop. "Wallowing in your mistakes isn't going to do her a bit of good at this point, Thrawn. You can't change the past. What you can do is stop tearing yourself up and focus on what you can do to help her recover. She's always been strong, but she's going to need you to get through this." Daithi shook him not too gently. "She's alive, Thrawn. Concentrate on that. She'll be alright."

Thrawn took a deep breath and passed a hand over his glowing eyes. "You're right, of course. It's just, after all this time, she's alive!" The mixture of shock and amazement in his old friend's voice brought a hint of a smile to Daithi's face. They turned in unison and hurried to catch up to the medics.

Word had clearly reached the _Springhawk _ahead of them: the crew that had still been on board now stood at attention on either side of the boarding ramp, forming an honor guard. Although they all maintained proper military attention, Daithi could see them all straining to catch a glimpse of the comrade they had long thought fallen. Just inside the ship, Medic Cha'falm'itrina stood, ready and waiting to receive them. He bent gravely over Chiara for a moment before directing one of the junior medics to take her directly to a treatment room.

"Where did you find her?" Falmi asked as the other medics got the stretcher into motion again, headed for the medbay.

"Thisa's warriors found her," Thrawn said mechanically, his eyes never straying from the stretcher they followed. "She was in the detention facility, locked in one of their cells."

"I see. It's been, what, four years?"

Thrawn shook his head as they rounded the final corner and headed into the medbay. "Nearly six."

"So long." The medic murmured, pausing to look at Thrawn as the junior medic maneuvered the stretcher into the treatment room. "Sir," he said, moving to intercept Thrawn when he tried to follow. "I'm going to have to ask you to wait here while I complete my assessment. I assure you, she is in good hands."

Thrawn's jaw tightened as the stretcher vanished into the other room. For a moment, Daithi thought he was going to attempt to pull rank on the medic and force his way in. Finally, though, he sighed and sank into one of the chairs in the waiting area. "I know she is, Falmi. You've always taken good care of her. Please, do whatever you can for her."

Falmi nodded in acknowledgement and followed the stretcher into the adjoining room.

* * *

It was nearly two hours later when Falmi finally reappeared and told Thrawn he could see Chiara. Daithi put an encouraging hand on his shoulder as he stood, half afraid of what news Falmi might give him about her condition.

Thrawn was surprised to see that the medics had already washed away the filth and dressed Chiara in a simple white shift. Her painfully thin arms lay on the covers and bandages wrapped around her wrists in place of the shackles that had bound her. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, making her look like a fragile toy still wrapped protective packaging. She seemed so breakable that Thrawn was almost afraid to touch her.

"She's severely malnourished, as you can see. She also has suffered a great deal of muscular atrophy, but nothing she cannot recover from," Falmi told him. "I'm more concerned by the hallucinogens in her system. Why they gave them to her, I can't say, but I can't even begin to identify the substances to develop an antidote. I'm afraid she's going to have to go through withdrawal and I'm concerned about her ability to endure that in her weakened state. I've started her on a fluid drip to try and help flush the toxins from her system and provide her with some nourishment. I hesitate to give her anything else at this point for fear that it might react with the drugs already in her bloodstream."

Thrawn nodded, feeling a bit relieved; at least there didn't seem to be any permanent physical damage. If she could just make it through the detox period... "How long do you expect the withdrawal period to take?"

The medic shook his head. "It's impossible to tell without knowing more about the particular mix of hallucinogens she's been given. Also, since she's not Chiss, I'm not sure how accurately I could predict that, even if I did know."

"If you were to take a guess, what would you say?" Thrawn asked, his eyes still on Chiara's familiar yet dramatically altered face.

"I would guess between five days and four weeks. Though, if it does take a full four weeks, it's only the first two weeks that are likely to be the worst."

Thrawn felt a lump form in his throat, hoping that it would be a shorter withdrawal. Clearly, she had suffered more than enough already. "I'd like a few minutes alone with her, please."

"Of course. Would you like me to have a second bed brought in so you can stay with her?"

"Please."

"I'll make the arrangements." Falmi halted just inside the door and turned back to him. "It's good to have her back, sir."

Unable to speak, Thrawn simply nodded. He waited until the door slid shut before he hesitantly reached out and took one of her hands. Her normally pale skin was almost translucent from years of sunlight deprivation and her fingers felt cold in his.

"Chiara?" he whispered into the silence. He bent and pressed his lips gently to her forehead. He thought he felt her fingers twitch a bit in his, but when he drew back her face was still. He stood there for a few minutes, unmoving, trying to sort through the roil of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Joy at finding her still alive, horror at the things she had clearly been subjected to, fear for her recovery and the permanent damage she may have suffered and self-loathing for not rescuing her sooner. And underneath all that was the love for her that had never waned, as well as a faint glimmer of hope that he hadn't felt in years. Pulling up a chair, he settled in to keep watch and wait.

* * *

When Falmi stopped to check on Chiara late that night before retiring, he found Thrawn asleep in his chair, his head resting on the arm that was draped across the bed, fingers interwined with Chiara's. He looked equal parts uncomfortable and exhausted. Falmi adjusted the fluid drip that was running into Chiara's veins and left a glass of water and a muscle relaxer on the table for Thrawn when he woke up. He glanced over at the unoccupied bed he'd had brought in for Thrawn and shook his head, smiling almost imperceptibly. Yes, this was more like the old Thrawn that used to sneak into the medbay at night on the rare occasions that Chiara had been injured in the past. Since Chiara's apparent death and his exile, Thrawn had become much darker and more brooding than he had ever been before. Falmi knew he had never forgiven himself for failing to protect her from her death. Now, he only hoped that Chiara could help him learn to forgive himself for not saving her sooner.

* * *

AN: Ahh! It's finally here. :) I sketched this chapter over two months ago, while I was still working on Outsider. It's been so hard to not spill the beans that Chiara was still alive, especially since I knew that some of you suspected. I promise things will get less depressing, after this. Please review and tell me what you think of this development?


	10. Chapter 9

AN: Thank for the review, Theo. Glad to hear you're still with me. I'm still a bit at a loss of words, too. I can't tell you how many times I've cried over what I've done to these two. I couldn't come up with any other way for Thrawn to get exiled, though - there is no way the Chiss would have left Chiara free, or she would have just hunted him down and picked him up right away. I had to take her out of the picture for a while. Also, I don't see her going along with Thrawn joining an Empire that is led by a Sith, either, if she had been with him with Parck picked him up. This was the best solution I could come up with, cruel though it may seem.

* * *

**Chapter 9  
**

Captain Voss Parck strode across the landing pad with purposeful steps, crossing from the shuttle that had brought him down to the surface to the where the _Springhawk_ rested on her landing skids. A few of the Chiss techs were moving alongside the hull of the ship, checking for hull integrity and repairing the minor damage suffered during battle. Parck didn't even slow his steps as he neared, but went straight up the extended boarding ramp and into the alien ship.

"I'm looking for Thrawn. Do you know where he is?" he asked the first warrior he encountered inside the ship proper.

The Chiss regarded him with glowing eyes for a moment, clearly turning the words over in his mind, trying to interpret the Basic. Thrawn had ordered that all members of the crew begin learning Basic to make it easier for the two groups to work together, but the progress had been somewhat slow. _Perhaps I should leave someone behind to teach them. Learning from holorecs isn't exactly the most efficient way to gain proficiency in another language._

"Where is Thrawn?" the Captain asked again, enunciating the words carefully.

He saw a flicker of understanding in the warriors face, this time. "Thrawn medbay." The Chiss told him in heavily accented Basic, pointing down the corridor.

"Medbay? Why wasn't I informed that he was injured?" Parck demanded. For that matter, why hadn't Thrawn told him so himself, rather than simply refusing to return to the _Strikefast _for debriefing without providing any explanation? _Damn his pride, he probably just didn't want to admit that he was hurt in the ground battle._

The warrior's forehead furrowed and he made a gesture to indicate that he didn't understand the question. "Never mind," Parck told him, turning on his heel and heading off in the direction the warrior had indicated. He keyed the door of what he thought was the medbay and stepped inside. There were several warriors laying on narrow beds, several with the medics still working to treat their injuries. None of the injured were Thrawn, though. _Perhaps they have a private suite for the officers. _Parck tapped the nearest medic on the shoulder. "Where is Thrawn?"

The medic hesitated for a moment. "In there," he said finally, pointing to one of the doors leading off the main area of the medbay.

The scene that greeted Parck when he stepped through the indicated door was not at all what he had expected. A frail-looking woman human woman lay on the bed. _No, not human_, Parck corrected himself as he noticed her ears. _Humanoid._ Thrawn was sitting in a chair beside her, datapad balanced on one knee, the fingers of his free had intertwined with hers in a startling contrast of pale white and deep blue skin. Parck's eyes narrowed. Thrawn had always studiously avoided physical contact ever since he had met the Chiss, yet he was holding this woman's hand?

"_Falmi, veah tun'ho k'ir vah tan'rah hah csarcican't tsan'ah len ch'at vav rot'sah_?" Thrawn asked without glancing up, obviously assuming he was one of the Chiss medics.

"What is this, Thrawn?" Parck demanded sharply. "This is what was so important that you wouldn't return to the _Strikefast_?"

He had the satisfaction of watching Thrawn shoot to his feet, datapad clutched in one hand. "Captain," he greeted tightly, lines of tension evident on his face "My apologies. I wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly." Parck's gaze flicked from Thrawn to the woman. "Who is this?"

Thrawn hesitated for just a heartbeat too long before answering. "One of the prisoners we rescued."

"And what is so important about this prisoner that you had to miss the debriefing?" Parck asked sardonically.

To his credit, Thrawn didn't even flinch at the question. Instead, he returned Parck's gaze cooly, deliberating over his answer. After a long moment, the Chiss spoke. "She is my wife."

Parck frowned at his junior officer. "You told me she was dead."

"Until five hours ago, I thought she was," Thrawn replied, glancing down at her as if the reassure himself that she was, in fact, still alive. "I was wrong."

"Are you saying the Laehcar captured her instead of killing her? Why?" the Captain asked.

Thrawn shook his head. "That remains unknown, at this time. I can only conclude that they were able to capture her and then destroyed her ship after they had secured her to make it appear that she had gone down with her craft." He looked a bit troubled. "What is not clear is how they were able to capture her int he first place. She is an exceptional pilot and a warrior of great skill. My warriors are searching for records of how they managed this and why they did it as we speak."

Parck moved to get a better view of the sleeping woman. Her face had been beautiful once, that much was clear. Now, her delicate features were gaunt, her cheeks hollow beneath high cheekbones. The circles under her eyes were black pools and only a few dark eyelashes remained to fringe her eyes. Her dark auburn hair was cropped close to her head in many places and missing entirely in others. "What did they do to her?"

Thrawn's glowing eyes hardened and, when he spoke, it was with a tone so deadly that Parck took an involuntary step back. "She was locked and chained in a cell too small for her to even lay down. Clearly, they have starved and tortured her. We also know they have been giving her hallucinogens, presumably to make sure she was too disoriented to escape."

"How long did they have her prisoner?"

"Nearly six years," Thrawn answered with a pained expression.

Parck regarded her for a moment. To survive that long under such dire circumstances was impressive, indeed. "What did you say her name is?"

"Chiara." Thrawn said the name softly, almost tenderly.

"And what is it that your medics say about Chiara's condition?"

"They say that she is stable, at least for now. My chief medic is concerned about the effects of the withdrawal she will certainly face from the hallucinogens." His expression briefly tightened. "We are more concerned by the potential for lasting effects on her mind from being subjected to such potent drugs for an extended period of time."

"Perhaps she should be transferred to the _Strikefast_'s medbay. Our equipment is more complete and we could get an idea of whether or not there is any permanent damage," Parck suggested.

Thrawn shook his head. "Thank you, sir, but what is done and done. We will find out soon enough if there is any lasting effect and I would rather keep her here. She is likely to be disoriented and possibly a bit fearful when she wakes up. It will be best if she is in a familiar place and surrounded by familiar people when that happens."

"I see your point," Parck conceded. "Well, you can consider yourself relieved of duty for the next few days. I may not possess your level of tactical genius, but I think I can manage the mopping up duties without you."

"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn said, looking a bit relieved.

"I look forward to meeting her," he said, nodding towards Chiara. "She must be exceptional, indeed, to have caught your eye. Though, I must say that I am surprised to fidn that she is not Chiss."

A ghost of a smile touched Thrawn's lips. "You and the entire Chiss species share that opinion, Captain."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Two days later, Daithi found Thrawn reading the newest report of the cleanup efforts on the planet that turned slowly below them with one hand and absently tracing Chiara's palm with the other.

"Any change?" he asked, hoisting himself onto the second bed.

Thrawn ran his hand through his short-cropped hair and set his datapad aside. "Not yet. I'm beginning to be concerned that the drugs may have done more damage than we initially thought possible. If she doesn't wake up by tomorrow, I may take up the Captain's offer to have more extensive tests run on her aboard the _Strikefast_."

"That might not be a bad idea. She's always had a strong mind, though, she could still be alright. Did Falmi ever figure out why they were drugging her?" Daithi asked.

"Not for certain. I suspect it had something to do with them trying to suppress her Force powers; if they could keep her confused enough and unable to focus, she wouldn't have been able to draw on it to escape."

"I see." He glanced at her. "Speaking of waking up, Thrawn, look!"

Thrawn's head whipped around to find that Chiara's eyes were slowly blinking open. He took a sharp breath, his heartbeat quickening a bit. "Chiara?" he said, keeping his voice steady. She didn't answer, but stared at a point on the ceiling directly above her instead. "Chiara, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you," she whispered in a voice rusty from disuse. "I'm not going to talk to you though, because you're not real. This is just another hallucination and I will wake up in my cell in a few hours. Alone."

Thrawn felt his forehead crease. "You're not hallucinating this time, Chiara. You're on board the _Springhawk _and I am every bit as real as you are. You're safe."

He saw a single tear escape from the corner of her eye and run into the small tuft of hair that was still left behind her ear. "Stop. Please, just stop. You're not real and I'm not safe. Just leave me alone."

Thrawn had thought he was prepared to deal with the aftermath of what had been done to her, but clearly he was wrong. It was almost physically painful for him to see her like this. Had the Laehcar broken her mind and spirit, as well as her body? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daithi slip out of the room, presumably to get Falmi. Thrawn kept his attention focused on Chiara. "I promise I'm real," he told her, taking one thin hand in both of his. "Does this feel real?"

She weakly tugged her hand away from him, her eyes still directed upwards. He stood and leaned over her, interposing his face on the point she was staring at. She squeezed her eyes shut. "No. Not real."

Thrawn felt like someone was squeezing a metal band around his heart, constricting it tighter and tighter with each refusal to acknowledge him. He stared at her for a moment, at a loss for what to do. Finally, he bent down and kissed away the trail of moisture left behind by her tear. "Did that feel real?"

"No." Her voice cracked a little, this time. "Just go away."

He hesitated, then brushed his lips against hers. She didn't move, but at least she didn't protest, this time. "Surely this feels real," he half told, half begged her. He kissed her again, more insistently. He felt one hand flutter uselessly against his chest and then finally, almost as if against her will, she responded, returning his kiss with a hungry desperation. When Thrawn finally broke off the kiss, she looked at him with wide and uncertain eyes.

She raised one cool hand to his cheek. "Are you really real?" she said, still sounding doubtful.

"I swear to you, I am. I don't know what they did to you, Chiara, but you're safe now. You're not hallucinating."

Her lower lip trembled and she let her hand fall to the pillow. "I'm never safe," she told him sadly. Just then, the door slid open and Falmi and Daithi came in. Chiara raised her head from the pillow, managing to look amazed and confused at the same time. "Daithi? Falmi?" she asked.

"I see my favorite patient is awake," Falmi said, stepping over to examine her. Chiara shrank from his touch as he expertly took a small vial of her blood.

"She thinks she's hallucinating," Thrawn told the medic tautly as he loaded the vial into the sample analyzer.

"No, no, I can't be," Chiara said, sounding distressed as her gaze moved rapidly from Thrawn to Daithi and then to Falmi. "I never hallucinate about more than one person at a time and there are three of you. But, this can't actually be real, can it?" The desperate hope in her voice, mixed with lingering pain and fear tore at Thrawn.

"It is," Falmi assured her. "I'm sure this will all seem much clearer once the hallucinogens have finished working their way out of your system."

She pushed herself up on one elbow and looked around. Finally, her gaze stopped on him. "Thrawn?" she said. He could hear the ache in her voice and the desire to believe that they were telling her the truth.

"Yes, I'm here," he told her reassuringly, stroking her cheek gently. Her skin felt papery thin to the touch and her cheekbones were painfully prominent. "It's alright, you're safe."

Her strength gave out abruptly and she let herself fall back to the pillow. She stared at Thrawn, her deep blue eyes filling with tears. "Hold me," she begged in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Thrawn glanced at Falmi for permission, still concerned by how fragile she seemed. The medic shrugged fractionally and removed the fluid line from her neck to prevent it from getting tangled or in the way. Sitting down cautiously on the edge of the bed, Thrawn gathered her in his arms as gently as he could and cradled her against his chest. She hardly weighed more than a child and he could feel each individual vertebra in her back through the thin shift that she wore. He kissed her forehead and held her as tightly as he dared as she buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her tears dripping onto his neck. "Shhhh," he soothed. "It's alright. I'm here and you're safe. You're safe."

"I... I just can't believe it. I dreamed you came for me so many times, but I always woke up," she hiccuped between silent sobs.

That statement felt like a physical blow to Thrawn. _She should never have had to wait so long for me to rescue her._ "You don't have to be afraid of waking up, this time. You're already awake," he assured her, fighting to get the words past the lump in his throat. He rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her; she was starting to tremble in his arms.

The blood sample analysis completed its cycle and beeped once, interrupting them and making Chiara jump. Falmi thumbed through the results. "Excellent, the hallucinogens have mostly cleared from her bloodstream." He picked up a hypospray and stepped towards Chiara. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day. I'm going to give you a sedative so you can rest."

"No!" she exclaimed vehemently, shrinking against Thrawn's chest. "I'll wake up and be back in my cell. Please don't let him, Thrawn," she begged.

"It's alright, you're not hallucinating. I'll be right here when you wake up," he promised her, distressed to see her so upset.

"No, you won't. Please, Thrawn!" Her voice had an edge of hysteria to it and she gripped a handful of his grey Imperial uniform with one hand. "Please," she whimpered.

Falmi stepped forward to administer the injection while Chiara wasn't looking, but Thrawn held up one hand to stop him. "Chiara, look at me." Her eyes darted up to meet his and then she ducked back under his chin again. "Look at me," he repeated, gently lifting her chin with one hand. "You trust me, don't you?" She gave him a microscopic nod. "Will you let me to give you the sedative?"

She hesitated for a minute, her blue eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. "Okay," she finally whispered, both looking and sounding like a frightened child.

Not looking away from her, Thrawn held out his hand to Falmi for the hypospray. "I promise I will stay right here with you. I'll be here when you wake up," he told her as he pressed the cold metal into her neck. There was a hiss as the medicine was dispensed into her bloodstream and then her blue eyes fluttered closed and she went limp in his arms.

"Put her down so I can have a look at her," Falmi said, all business again. Reluctantly, Thrawn stood and laid her back on the bed, a feeling of infinite weariness coming over him as he tucked the blankets around her.

"Falmi-" Thrawn started.

"I don't know, Thrawn," the medic cut him off, bending over Chiara. "If she really has been under the influence of that hallucinogen or others like it for the last five years, it could be her brain chemistry simply needs time to rebalance itself. Until it does so, she's likely to have a hard time discerning reality and will be prone to fits of emotion. If we are fortunate, this just part of the withdrawal and will only be temporary."

"But you can't tell, at this point." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Not for certain. It's very encouraging that she could recognize all of us, though. I think, once the symptoms lesson, we will find that she is still herself," Falmi told him. "If you want to be sure, we can always take her to the _Strikefast _for further testing. I wouldn't recommend it, though; if she wakes up while she is there, she's likely to get even more upset than she was just now."

"No, it's not worth the risk," Thrawn agreed. "I think it will be best to watch and hope."


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

A few hours later, Thrawn sat by Chiara's side, trying rather unsuccessfully to focus on the preliminary report from the battle. His eyes moved methodically over the text, but he couldn't seem to process any of the information. After realizing that he had just read the same paragraph four times without taking in a single word, Thrawn finally conceded defeat with a sigh and dropped the datapad onto the table. The truth was that he was far too troubled by how discomfited and out of sorts Chiara had seemed when she had briefly regained consciousness to be able to think about anything else. She had more strength and stubborn will than anyone Thrawn had ever met. What had the Laehcar done to incite the kind of reactions she had given him in those brief moments?

He was still watching her pensively when she stirred. The movement was no more than an almost imperceptible twitch, but Thrawn still leaned forward with a frown and glanced at his wrist chrono. Falmi had said the sedative he gave her would last six hours and it had only been four, so far. She mumbled unintelligibly and seemed to drift off, again. Thrawn searched her face with glowing eyes, noting the slightly pinched look that had stolen over her pale features as she slept. He ran his fingers over her lightly over her pale cheek as if he could smooth away the imperceptible lines of tension, marveling to himself at the fact that she was back. Even if she had suffered permanent damage from the drugs that coursed through her veins for so long, Thrawn knew that he would accept her return to his life in any capacity. Her hand twitched spasmodically and he picked up the sound of her muttering over the soft hissing of the medical devices that surrounded them. Her eyes half opened and flicked around the room without seeming to take it in.

Thrawn took her cool hand in his, holding it like he might a porcelain cup or a delicate flower. "Chiara?" He called her name softly, trying to determine whether or not she was awake. She didn't respond, but her hand continued to twitch in his. Thrawn debated with himself for a moment, then stood and crossed to the door. It was better to be safe than sorry. One of the younger medics stood just outside in the main medbay, changing a bandage on one of the wounded warriors. "Find Falmi and bring him here immediately," Thrawn ordered him.

"Right away, sir," the medic replied, passing off the duty of tending the injured warrior to one of his companions.

It only took ten minutes for Falmi to arrive, but by then it had become apparent that something was very wrong. Chiara's breathing was shallow and rapid and her jerky movements were intensifying, yet she seemed completely unresponsive to outside stimuli.

"She's hallucinating." Falmi murmured before he even reached her bedside. He glanced at the monitors. "Her heart rate and respirations are quite elevated, as well. Clearly, this drug lingers in the tissues even once it is cleared from the blood stream."

"Is there anything you can give her to calm her down? Whatever she is hallucinating about, she is clearly in distress," Thrawn pointed out, concern etched on his features.

Falmi shook his head. "It was risky enough to give her that sedative. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have even given her that. I don't dare give her anything else."

Chiara moaned unintelligibly as Falmi finished speaking, her fingers hooking into claws and tearing at the bandage on her left wrist. Bright red blossomed over the pristine white of the bandage as her fingernails dug deeply into the still-healing sores on her wrist, tearing them open again. Thrawn seized her wrist and pried her fingers gently away so that Falmi could stem the flow of blood and rebandage the wound. Chiara's cry of fear cut straight to Thrawn's heart as she writhed in his grip, reflexively pulling away from him. Even knowing that this was but a shadow of her former strength, Thrawn was amazed that she could put up such a fight in her condition.

"Should we restrain her?" Thrawn worried, struggling to maintain his grip on her wrists as she fought him.

"I would rather not," Falmi told him, a frown wrinkling his forehead. "She could come out of it at any time and, given how she was found, I don't think we want her to wake up in restraints. It will be best if we can just keep her from hurting herself."

Thrawn winced at the memory of that horrible, wonderful moment when he had first seen her in that dank and dark cell. The shock of it had had left him breathless with a mixture of joy at seeing her alive and crippling horror at her condition. He had seen her injured more times than he cared to remember, thanks to her reckless tendency to charge into the fray and save others with no regard for herself an,d although some of those injuries had been dire, none of them had been as horrific as what she had suffered in her years of captivity.

Her thrashing intensified, dragging him out of his reverie and back to the present. He bit his lower lip in concern as Falmi pinned her torso to the narrow bed to keep her from falling off. A scream tore from her pale lips, piercing Thrawn to the core. "Falmi…"

"I know," the medic said, his voice laced with tension, casting around them as if for inspiration. "Try talking to her. She knows your voice and it may help."

For a moment, Thrawn simply stared at the medic, at a loss for what to say to her, the woman whom he loved and who he had spent five years believing was dead. What did one say after something like that? _Anything will do_, he told himself, _she just needs to hear your voice_. Watching her lay unconscious on the bed, even so changed by the cruelties she had endured, his mind drifted back to the day they had first met. "I remember the first time I saw you," he told her as he switched to the Basic words that would be more familiar to her, his glowing eyes intent on her face. "I was fascinated by you from the moment they pulled you out of your wrecked fighter. I was surprised to find that you were a woman when they took your helmet off. When you woke up..."

As he continued talking, Chiara gradually stilled until her movements became little more than an occasional twitch. He heard her call his name several times and wondered what she saw in her hallucination. When his voice began to get rough from the strain of constant speech, he sipped a cup of hot _vikn_ that Falmi brought him while keeping up a steady stream of speech.

Finally, after about three hours, she was completely still and her heart rate returned to normal. A pale shadow seemed to linger on her features, casting an even deeper pallor across her already death-like face.

"Do you think she is likely to have many more of these hallucinations?" Thrawn asked Falmi, relieved that at least this one was over.

"Let us hope not." The older man told him. Thrawn glanced up sharply at the note of exhaustion in the medic's voice; he looked as drained as he sounded.

"Go and rest, Falmi," Thrawn told him, laying a hand on the medic's shoulder. "You've done enough. I'll send for you if anything else happens."

The medic never made it to the door, though. "Thrawn?" a quiet voice came from behind them, stopping them both in their tracks. Thrawn and Falmi turned in unison to find Chiara propping herself up on one elbow, her eyes clear and focused, her expression calm, but mildly confused. "It really wasn't a hallucination? You really found me?" she questioned.

"Yes, it was real," Thrawn assured her, crossing the distance that separated him from her side in one long step. "You're on the Springhawk."

She lay back on her pillow, her eyes roving around the room. "I was beginning to think I would never see this place, again. Or you." She stretched out a pale hand towards him, straining to reach him. Thrawn took a step closer to catch her pale hand in his. He raised her fingertips to his lips and was rewarded with a microscopic smile. _Yes, that's the Chiara I know, _he thought, hope stirring in him that perhaps she had, indeed, avoided any permanent damage. The brief glimpse of her old self vanished when her expression clouded over again a moment later. "Is it really over?" she asked uncertainly.

Thrawn laced his fingers through hers. "It is," he confirmed. "The Laehcar are destroyed and will never again post a threat to anyone in this region of space."

A shiver seemed to run down her body, moving from her neck all the way down her spine. "Good." She brushed at the sleeve of his uniform with one finger. "Since when does the CEDF wear gray?" she asked, changing the subject.

Thrawn felt his jaw tighten a bit. His sham of a tribunal and subsequent court-martial was still a bit of a sensitive subject, but he could hardly expect her to know that. "They still wear black," he assured her. "But I'm not part of the Defense Fleet, anymore."

She blinked once in surprise. "Why not? What happened?"

"I think that story should wait for another day," Falmi said as Thrawn opened his mouth to answer, cutting him off. "You need to rest."

For a moment, Thrawn thought she was going to object and demand the story now, but instead she settled more comfortable back against her pillow. "Rest does sound good," she agreed, her eyelids starting to droop.

Falmi made one last check of the monitors before turning to Thrawn. "She seems to be alright, now, and I'm sure you would like some time alone with her. I'd like a word with you before I leave you, if I may."

Thrawn glanced at Chiara and saw the sudden tension in that lined her eyes. "I am not going anywhere," he promised her, understanding the source of her concern; the rational part of her brain understood what was going on around her, but the more visceral part of her mind still feared that this was just another trick of drugs and her imagination. If she let him out of her sight, he might never come back. "I am just going to step over to the door with Falmi. I will stay where you can see me at all times. Is that alright?"

He could see the lingering fear in brief hesitation before she gave him a terse nod of consent. Thrawn bent over her and brushed his lips over her forehead. "I won't be long," he assured her before he headed over to join the medic at the door, mindful of Chiara's limited field of vision from the bed. "What do you think?" he asked the other as they reached the door.

"I have to say that I am relieved," the medic told him. "I'm sure you'll agree, she seems to be mostly herself."

Thrawn nodded in agreement, feeling some of the knots in his muscles begin to relax. "Aside from the understandable edginess, she does indeed."

"Try to keep her quiet; absolutely no physical activity whatsoever. Her body is under far too much stress as it is from the drugs and the starvation. I will have food sent for both of you at mealtime, but it may not be easy to get her to eat; she clearly hasn't been receiving regular feeding for quite some time and may have become desensitized to her hunger as a result. If she will eat, it is very important that you not give her anything other than what I send her - there could be serious complications if she eats too much at once after such an extended period of starvation," Falmi instructed.

"Understood." He glanced back to where Chiara was watching him anxiously. "How long do think it is likely to be before the withdrawal sets in?"

"Between her metabolism being slower than ours and not knowing exactly what she's been given, it's a bit hard to tell. I would expect the symptoms to start sometime in the next two days, though," the medic told him.

Thrawn nodded. "Thank you for everything you have done, Falmi. Go and get some rest."

Thrawn eyes followed the other man as he slipped out of the room, giving him a brief glimpse of the medbay and the warriors still recuperating there. He made a note to make sure he spoke to the injured later; it was their efforts and their blood that had bought Chiara's freedom. The rest of the crew deserved recognition, as well. He turned back to Chiara as the door slid shut, noting that she looked decidedly weary, but seemed to be trying to keep herself awake. Thrawn crossed back to her and took the hand she reached out to him again. "You look tired," he observed. "Why don't you sleep for a bit? I will stay by your side."

Chiara looked up at him, her familiar blue eyes tinged with the slightest hints of fear. _Even if the rest of her face is changed, her eyes are still the same_, Thrawn reflected. The rest would return to normal as she gained weight again and as the short patches of her hair grew out, he knew. "Will you hold me while I sleep?" she whispered.

Thrawn felt a hint smile touch his lips. Yes, this was the Chiara he knew. How many times had Falmi found them together when one of them was in the medbay and recovered enough to be mostly out of danger and fumed at them for breaking his rules? It usually happened at her instigation, too. "I would, but I'm afraid of hurting you," he told her. "There's not much room on that bed, either."

"That has never stopped us before. You don't need to treat me as if I'm made of Valhadin porcelain, Thrawn. You're not going to break me," she chastised him, just a hint of her old vehemence at his overprotective tendencies creeping into her voice.

He shook his head. "Not today, Chiara," he told her. "We can see what Falmi says when he comes back."

"Since when have you ever asked him for permission?" Chiara grumbled, even as she relaxed against her pillow and let her eyes drift shut. Thrawn adjusted her blanket around her shoulders before he sat down again and picked up his datapad, making yet another attempt at deciphering the technical text on the battle. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Although she seemed to be resting comfortably, every few minutes she opened her eyes to look at him, as if she needed to reassure herself that he was still there. Holding his hand apparently wasn't enough to convince her that her rescue had been more than a dream.

Her twitchiness went on for about twenty minutes, before Thrawn gave in. He kicked off his boots and stood, letting the datapad drop into his chair. "Alright," he told her. "We'll do this your way." He picked her up gently and moved her to the far side of the bed to make room for himself, then slipped in beside her. Thrawn held the fluid line out of the way to keep it from tangling between them as Chiara settled in, snuggling against his side and laying her head on his chest. Thrawn tucked the blankets a little more tightly around her shoulders and slipped his arms around her painfully thin waist, wondering at how right it felt to have her in his arms again, even after so many years.

He could feel Chiara finally begin to relax as she sighed contentedly. "Thrawn?" she asked sleepily.

"Hmmm?"

"I love you," she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

Thrawn's throat tightened. He had never thought he would hear those words again. His mind went back to the last time he had heart her say those three simple words, on the fateful day when she had climbed into her clawcraft and flown away from him for what he had thought was the last time. And now, here she was again and they had been given a second chance. Determined to make the most of it, Thrawn kissed her forehead and rubbed her back gently. "I love you," he told her.


	13. Chapter 12

AN: Okay, you guys are making me nervous. Not a single reaction to the fact that Chiara is still alive? Have I shocked everyone into silence, or driven everyone off? I know this story is very different from the previous ones. Things will lighten up a bit in terms of not being quite so tragic and heart-rending in chapter 17.

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**Chapter 12**

Thrawn woke a few hours later, feeling more rested than he had in years. Apparently, Chiara wasn't the only one that slept better when they were together. He hadn't even meant to fall asleep. He looked down to where she lay curled up against his side and with her head resting on his shoulder. She looked peaceful and fragile as she slept, her sunken cheeks framed by a stray lock of dark auburn hair, the vibrant color a stark contrast to her pale skin. She had always seemed petite beside his tall frame, despite the fact that she was only a centimeters short of two meteres, but now her gaunt frame was nearly eclipsed by his muscular one. Thrawn watched her sleep, letting the mix of emotions he felt at seeing her flood over him: Joy at having her back after so many years of thinking he had seen her, held her for the last time. Burning anger at the Laehcar for what they had done to her. Even the Imperials, who were admittedly less than kind, didn't treat their prisoners with such cruelty. Thrawn almost wished he hadn't been so thorough in his destruction of the Laehcar so he could make them suffer as they had made Chiara. She would never allow it, though, he knew. That was one of the things he had always loved about her - she had an unwavering conscience and sense of right and wrong. Even when they disagreed over the morality of a course of action, she held to her belief without stooping to any of the self-righteousness that had tended to plague the Jedi in the final days of their Order.

He felt guilt, too; guilt at not seeing through what had clearly been a ruse to keep him from going looking for Chiara. The possibility had never even occurred to him that she could still be alive. It made no sense for anyone to attempt to take her alive if they had any inkling of what a powerful warrior she was and the Laehcar had been studying the Chiss for quite some time, preparing an attack. He could neither think of how they could have done it or why. Thrawn made a mental note to ask Daithi to run a search on the Laehcar's files to see if they could find anything to shed some light on the matter.

Thrawn let his fingertips trail over Chiara's back as she slept, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He knew her recovery would be a long and difficult journey, but he was prepared to do anything he could to help ease the process for her. _It's the least I can do, after I left her in their hands for so long_. In spite of the difficulties he knew they would face, Thrawn found he was looking forward to it.

Chiara slept peacefully for another hour, but Thrawn didn't mind that he was somewhat trapped until she woke up, unless he wanted to risk waking her prematurely. He spent the time re-memorizing every line and contour of her face, savoring being able to hold her close again. When she finally woke and stretched beside him, it almost felt to Thrawn like any other of the countless mornings they had woken in each others arms. She reached up and touched his cheek gently, a look of wonder in her blue eyes.

"I still keep expecting to wake up and find this was a dream," she murmured, a barely perceptible hint of fear in face.

"I know," he sympathized, holding her a little tighter. "It has to be quite a shock to go from being a prisoner for so many years to being free again, especially with the drugs they were giving you. The feeling with fade with time, though."

Chiara shivered in his arms, then shifted to rest her chin on his chest so she could look up at him more comfortably. Her chin was so sharp that it was almost painful, but Thrawn ignored the discomfort. "How long was it?" she asked. "I lost track."

"Five years, two hundred and eighty nine days, by your Galactic Standard calendar," Thrawn told her, the numbers burned indelibly into his mind. Two thousand, one hunder and twenty-nine days of suffering. The number should never have even reached triple digits; quadruple was utterly inexcusable.

"Six years," Chiara breathed, closing her eyes tightly.

"I'm sorry it was so long. The Laehcar faked your death and we only discovered the truth when we found you two days ago. I should have seen through their deception, though." He shook his head angrily at himself.

Chiara reached up and placed one bony finger on his lips to halt the stream of self-recriminations. "Stop. It wasn't your fault. The Laehcar were far more clever and better organized than we thought. Their plan to capture me proved that," she told him. He could feel her tremble as she broke off and buried her face in his chest, clearly trying to block out the memories.

Thrawn rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to ignore the scars he could feel through her thin shirt, scars that had been put there by his negligence. She might be able to forgive him for not rescuing her sooner, but he found it much harder to forgive himself. He considered her words. The Laehcar had indeed proven themselves to be clever adversaries and he very much wanted to know how they had managed to capture her. It was obvious that she wasn't ready to talk about that ill-fated mission yet, though, so he shelved his curiosity for another day. "How are you feeling?" he asked instead, steering the subject to what seemed like safer territory.

"I'm cold and I have a headache, but that's nothing new," she told him, her sudden tension slowly draining away again.

"I believe Falmi doesn't want to give you any medications, at this time, for fear they may interact with the drugs that are still in your system. We can fix the part about you being cold, though. I'll get you another blanket." Thrawn carefully tucked the blanket that she currently had more tightly around her shoulders before he slipped out of the narrow bed. "I'll be back in a moment." He only got one step away form her before the pinched look on her face drew him up short. "Is that alright?"

Chiara took a deep breath, her features smoothing over as she exhaled. "Yes."

Thrawn bent to place a kiss on her pale brow, but Chiara wound one arm around his neck and gently pulled him down to her lips, instead. Her kiss was tentative at first, as if she was afraid she had forgotten how to kiss in her years of confinement. There was a tenderness to it, mixed with a hungry passion that could only be inspired by years of separation. If the rest of her body had been changed by her captivity, her lips had not; they were every bit as soft and warm as Thrawn had remembered. Blanket forgotten, he dropped onto the bed next to her and pulled her into his lap, his arms around her slender waist. She gripped a his uniform with one hand as her sweet lips moved in synch with his. Thrawn moved to run his fingers through her hair, forgetting for a moment that she had lost of most of it. He settled for running his thumbs along the ridge of her pointed ears instead, savoring the forgotten taste of her mouth.

Much sooner than he would have liked, Chiara's grip on his uniform lessened and her lips stilled against his. She sagged against his chest, her breathing quick and shallow. Thrawn cursed himself silently letting himself be caught up with her touch when she was still so weak. He eased her back down to the bed as carefully as he could and pulled the blanket over her thin shoulders, Falmi's warning against physical exertion running belatedly through his mind. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tire you," he told her, arranging the pillow beneath her head.

"I hardly think you have anything to apologize for when I started it," she told him, rueful smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"A fair point," he conceded. "Do you feel alright?"

She gave a brief, but breathless chuckle. "I'm fine, Thrawn, just a little tired. Stop worrying that you're going to break me, it's getting annoying, already."

That drew a smile from him. Whatever her initial reaction upon waking up the first time had been, clearly her mind had cleared now and she was, once again, herself. "I will go and get that blanket, now. I won't be long," he promised.

He stepped out of Chiara's private room and into the medbay, glancing around for one of the medics. "Pard'ani'sti," he called to the nearest medic, "Please find me another blanket, Chiara is cold."

The medic retrieved two blankets from a storage unit and passed them to him. "In case she needs more than one," she explained. "She's thin enough that she will have a hard time regulating her own body temperature."

"Thank you," Thrawn said, truly appreciating the medic's thoughtfulness. It was a marked improvement over her attitude when she had practically thrown Chiara out of the medbay all those years ago when he had first met her. But, then, practically the entire crew had come to see her as one of their own and accepted her as his unofficial second-in-command, in time. She had directed a number of skirmishes on her own or lead a boarding party against the enemy forces. With her by his side, their victories had always been resounding and accomplished with minimal loss of life on the Chiss side. She had earned the respect of every member of his crew with the way she never thought twice about putting herself in danger to save a few lives.

Thrawn had just stepped back through the door and keyed it shut behind him, still contemplating the relationship that had grown between Chiara and his warriors when Chiara let out an anguished shriek that split the air. He jerked in surprise, eyes flying to the bed as he dropped the blankets and hurried towards her. She cringed against the bed, clawing backwards as if trying to get away from something, her eyes fixed on a blank spot on the wall.

"Chiara?" Thrawn said, his voice laced with concern as he touched her shoulder. She flinched away from him as if burned. "Chiara, what's wrong?"

The terror in her eyes as she flicked a glance at him wrenched his heart. "Don't let it hurt me," she pleaded, covering her head as if she could hide from whatever it was that she was seeing.

_She's hallucinating again,_ Thrawn realized. But at least she was awake, this time; perhaps her could help her through whatever nightmarish vision was assailing her. "Don't let who hurt you, Chiara? There is no one else here," he told her, keeping his tone tightly under control.

She threw a trembling hand towards the empty space she had been staring at, pointing. "The Laehcar."

"Chiara, you're hallucinating again. The Laehcar are destroyed, all of them. They can't hurt you anymore," he told her, taking her hand in his. Her eyes were wild with fear as she glanced at him.

"But he's right there," she told him, her voice starting to shake, throwing a glance at the spot on the wall. She flinched and tried to scramble away, nearly falling off the bed in her haste. "No! Don't let him touch me. Don't let him hurt me," she begged him.

Afraid she would hurt herself and not knowing what else to do, Thrawn took her in his arms and cradled her protectively against his chest. He stroked what little hair she had left. "It's alright," he soothed her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I'm here. No one will hurt you."

She cowered against him, her entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind. "Make him go away."

"He's not real, Chiara; you're hallucinating. It will pass. You're safe."

Chiara glanced up at him, her eyes filled with terror and memories of torture and pain. "He's there," she insisted.

"No, _Elor'endil_, he's not," Thrawn assured her, using his old term of endearment for her. "Would I lie to you?"

There was a look of uncertainty in her eyes as she warred between her trust of him and the seeming reality of the specter that the hallucinogens were conjuring before her eyes. "No," she conceded at last. "But I can _see _him."

"Chiara, where are you?"

She threw a quick glance around the room. "The _Springhawk_."

"Do you really believe that an enemy could make it this far without any of my warriors stopping them?" he asked her.

She considered that for a moment, still cringing away from her imagined tormenter. "No."

"Do you think I would allow any of the Laehcar into the same room as you, even if there were any of them left alive?"

She swallowed. "No."

"Have you been having hallucinations fon a regular or quite some time?"

"Yes," she admitted, peeking out from under his protective hold.

"If you know these things are true and I am telling you there are no Laehcar in this room, do you think that perhaps you should believe me?" he reasoned.

She sagged in his arms for a moment, giving in to his logic. "Yes." She threw another glance towards the blank spot on the wall and her body went rigid once more. "But I can still see him."

"I am not denying that you can see him, I'm simply pointing out that he is not real," he told her. "I know that doesn't necessarily take away the fear, but perhaps it can help a little."

She didn't reply, this time, but at least she stopped shaking quite so much and her rapid breathing slowed fractionally. Thrawn rested his cheek against her forehead, rubbing one hand across her back while he held her close with the other. She buried her face against his shoulder as if to hide from her hallucination and muttered to herself. Thrawn had to strain to hear what she was saying, but he was fairly certain that she was repeating the words "not real" to herself over and over again.

The hallucination lasted for another fifteen minutes, with Chiara twitching or whimpering occasionally as she saw the perceived threat even with her eyes closed. Thrawn murmured soothingly to her, keeping up a steady stream of assurances that he was there to protect her and that she was safe. Finally, her breathing evened out and she slowly relaxed in his arms. Thrawn waited until she emerged from where she had been hiding under his chin to look at him with wide eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, stroking her cheek. Her already pale color had turned deathly white from her ordeal.

"I think so," she told him in a strained voice, shuddering involuntarily.

"Did that help, at all?"

"A little. It didn't make it seem any less real, but it helped to know that it wasn't real," she replied.

Thrawn nodded. At least she had been lucid enough to still be able to see and hear him, this time. He had been dreading the possibility of having to physically restrain her if she started hurting herself again as she had in her hallucination, that morning. Chiara heaved a shaky sigh of relief and let her head rest against his shoulder.

"I'm tired," she murmured, eyes starting to drift closed.

"Sleep, then," he told her, kissing her forehead tenderly. He moved to lay her back on the bed, but her eyes flew open in terror and she grabbed at his uniform.

"Don't leave me!" she panicked.

Thrawn scooped her back to his chest before he had even finished letting her go. "I'm not going anywhere," he assured her. "I was just going to put you down so I can get the other blankets. They are right inside the door, I won't even leave your sight."

"No, please," she begged. His heart squeezed painfully. Although it seemed that she hadn't suffered any cognitive impairment from the hallucinogens, her captivity and the torture she had been subjected to had clearly left a mark on her. It was difficult to see the confident and often defiant woman he loved cringing in fear and begging for his protection. _I suppose I should have expected this_, he told himself. Even the strongest minded of Chiss warriors took extensive periods of readjustment and reconditioning on the rare occasions that they were captured and subjected to the harsh treatments that Chiara had endured. Her mind was stronger than most, but she had also been held for longer than any of the reconditioned warriors he had known. It would take time and patience for her to overcome her fears and they were likely to flare up at unexpected and perhaps inconvenient times until then.

Thrawn carefully removed the fluid line from her neck and gathered her in his arms. He stood slowly and crossed to where he had dropped the blankets. At her normal weight, he could never have balanced her while he squatted down to retrieve the rolls of cloth, but she was so painfully thin that he was able to manage it without much difficulty. He took her back to the bed and climbed awkwardly in with her, settling her ask comfortably as he could against his side. She clung to him like a frightened child while he let her go long enough to spread the extra blankets over her.

"It's alright, you can sleep," he soothed her, tucking the blankets around her shoulders. "I will stay awake and keep you safe."

"Promise you won't leave me?"

Thrawn looked solemnly into her once-proud eyes. "Chiara Matao, I will never leave you," he promised. She resisted sleep for a moment longer, searching his face as if for reassurance that he meant his words. Finally, her eyelids drifted shut and her breathing evened out as she fell into a deep and dreamless slumber.


	14. Chapter 13

AN: Thanks for the review, Theo. I think you have a point about revenge not being the primary motive. I should have done a better job of illustrating that he was already contemplating a pre-emptive strike to neutralize their threat before he realized Chiara was even missing. I'll have to tweak the first chapter a bit, or put that in their later conversations about what happened while she was MIA. There definitely are a lot of very difficult issues coming up for them that will test their relationship to the max, which is part of why I chose the title "Trial by Fire" - this isn't just a trial for Thrawn while he thinks she's dead, or for her while she's prisoner, it's a trial for their relationship. I have thought these things through and have a plan. :) I'm drafting the chapters where these issues come to light, right now. It's a very delicate and difficult couple of chapters to write, that's for sure! Regarding how long he was exiled, I've been using the Wookieepedia article on him as my guide, and according to that he was only exiled for a little over a year (exiled c. 20 BBY, rescued by Parck in 19 BBY). I've been over Mist Encounter a dozen times and can't find anything that seems to contradict that, so I decided to roll with it... If you have a better source, by all means, please share! BTW, you should join the site, if for no other reason than being able to private message each other, lol! You've had some great insight, which I really appreciate.

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**Chapter 13  
**

Thrawn was staring at the ceiling and contemplating the next target in the campaign to clear the Unknown Regions of threats and Chiara was still sleeping when the door slid open. He lifted his head to see Chaf'alm'itrina come in with a tray of food. The medic looked much more rested as he shifted the dishes to the table that stood beside the bed and shook his head at Thrawn.

"You two are incorrigible. You know the rules of this medbay - mate or not, you aren't supposed to be sharing a bed until she is released," the older man told him, moving to check the monitors and adjust her fluid drip.

"I did try, Falmi. She couldn't sleep and I thought it was more important for her to rest than it was for me to follow your rules," Thrawn told him ruefully.

"Not that you have ever concerned yourself with my rules, anyway," the older man said pointedly. "But you are correct, it is more important for her to rest. How is she?"

"She was doing very well for a while and was very lucid. About two hours ago, she had another hallucination. Apparenlty, she thought one of the Laehcar was here. To say that she was distressed is an understatement. I've never seen her so terrified, before."

The medic shook his head. "Hopefully, they hallucinations will begin to decrease in intensity and duration before long."

"I have nothing to compare this one to, since she was unconscious for the one she had this morning, butshe was still able to interact with me throughout the hallucination. I was able to convince her that she what she was seeing was not real. Of course, that did not take away her fear or the intensity of the vision, but it seemed to calm her a bit to be able to acknowledge that it wasn't real," Thrawn told the other.

"Excellent. That is a good sign, indeed. How did she seem after?"

Thrawn shook his head. "She was still frightened and quite drained. She refused to allow me to put her down even long enough to get the blankets I had dropped near the door. Speaking of which, you need to reattach the fluid line - I had to remove it so I could carry her to retrieve them."

"Let's wake her so I can reattach it and we can see if she will eat," the medic suggested. "I'd like to change her bandages, as well."

"Very well." Thrawn turned his attention back to Chiara. He kissed her forehead and rubbed her shoulders with some vigor to rouse her. She shifted slightly in his arms, snuggling closer to his side. "Chiara? Falmi is here to see you."

Unwillingly, she blinked awake with a stretch and a yawn. "Hi Falmi," she mumbled sleepily.

He smiled at her. "Is Thrawn allowed to get up so I can look at you properly? I need to change your bandages."

Her back stiffened at the suggestion. "I'll be right here," he murmured to her before she could object, brushing his lips across her forehead again.

Chiara stared up at him with deep blue eyes, warring between trust and fear. "I suppose," she consented finally, her trust of him winning out. "I'm sorry for being so difficult, earlier. I just..." she trailed off, looking for the right words.

"No apology is needed, Chiara. Your reaction is both normal and perfectly understandable," he assured her, sliding out from the bed and taking up a post beside her.

"How are you feeling? Any nauseau, muscle tremors or disorientation?" Falmi asked as he set to work, pressing the sticky pad of the fluid line back to the base of her neck. Chiara flinched almost imperceptibly when the device hissed as it sealed against her skin and began delivering the fluids once more.

"Not really," she told him. "I have a headache and I was cold, but the blankets that Thrawn got me helped with that part."

"Is the headache tolerable? I would rather not give you any medications, just yet," he asked as he removed the bandage from one of her wrists. Thrawn hadn't seen the damage left by the shackles, before, but now he saw she had deep lacerations in the delicate skin of her wrists, nearly to the bone. He felt anger stir in him once more at the cruelty of the Laehcar for using chains that were too short to even allow her to lie down, leaving her weight dangling painfully from the metal cuffs whenever she fell asleep. Once more, Thrawn found himself thinking that their destruction of the war-like race had been far too quick and painless. The medic applied a healing salve with expert hands, barely even drawing a flinch from Chiara as he worked on the ragged wound.

"I can live with it," Chiara assured Falmi as he started winding a fresh bandage around her wrist.

"Good." The medic worked in silence for a few minutes, cleaning and rebandaging her other wrist and her ankles. The latter, Thrawn noted, was not nearly as badly damaged as her wrists. She had open sores from the fetters chafing her skin, but they didn't seem to be deep. Falmi keyed a control on the bed when he finished, elevating the upper half of the bed to push Chiara into a roughly sitting position. "I brought you _buzim_ stew," he told her, moving to retrieve the steaming bowl from the table.

"I'm not hungry," Chiara told him, fidgetting distractedly at one of the bandages.

"You only think you aren't hungry, Chiara. You haven't eaten anything in at least the two days since we found you, probably much longer than that. You have grown so accustomed to being hungry that you've forgotten how to interpret your body's hunger signals. Just try to eat a little," Falmi encouraged her. "You need it to rebuild your strength."

Chiara looked at the contents of the bowl he handed her apathetically. It was more of a broth with a few chunks of meat in it, Thrawn saw. She chased a piece of _buzim_ around the bowl with her spoon for a moment, then leaned her head back against the bed and closed her eyes. "I'm too tired, Falmi."

"You will never regain your strength if you don't eat," the medic pointed out. "Just try one bite."

"Not right now," she mumbled, clearly on the verge of drifting off again.

With a sigh, Falmi took the bowl from her and set it on the table next to Thrawn's meal. "We'll have to try again, later," he told Thrawn.

Thrawn nodded. "Is there something else you could give her? She has never been terribly fond of _buzim_ stew - it's too heavily spiced," he told the other. "In fact, she's never quite gotten used to most of our foods. Perhaps I should have something sent in from the _Strikefast_'s mess for her." They had docked with the larger ship the day before, so it would be relatively simple to have something brought on board the _Springhawk_ for her.

The medic considered as he reclined the bed again a bit for Chiara so that she was half sitting, half lying. "I suppose that would do. The main point, at this time, is simply to get her eating again. Nothing too rich or too heavy, though, or it is likely to come back up, and the serving needs to be small, approximately this size," he said, indicating the discarded stew.

"Understood." Thrawn pulled his comlink from his belt and made the call to the _Strikefast._

Thrawn had finished his meal and was sitting with Chiara by the time her food arrived from the _Strikefast_, one arm around her waist and thumbing through the latest reports on his datapad with the other hand. She was dozing lightly, her head resting against his shoulder, when the door slid open. Thrawn was rather surprised when Captain Parck walked in carrying a covered dish, rather than the simple courrier he had expected. He started to disengage himself from Chiara to stand and come to the proper military attention that he felt was required in the presence of his commanding officer, but Parck waived him down.

"Don't disturb her, Thrawn," he told his junior officer, setting the food down on the table. "I heard that she had woken up and thought I would come down myself to see how she was getting on."

"Thank you, Captain," Thraw told him, truly appreciating the gesture. "She is doing rather well. Better than I had hoped, in fact. She was extremely disoriented when she woke up this morning, but she has been very much herself since then."

"Good! Very good. And I take it she is doing well enough that she's eating, again," the Captain said, gesturing to the food he had brought.

"Actually, no. She refused to even try what our medic brought her. She used to say how much she missed karthali stew, though, so I thought perhaps this would entice her to eat." Chiara stirred a bit beside him, roused by the sound of their voices. He turned to see her open her eyes and blink slowly at the Captain.

"Umm, Thrawn?" she said, looking perplexed and mildly confused. "I seem to be hallucinating, again. I'm seeing a human over there." She nodded towards where the Captain stood.

A ghost of a smile touched Thrawn's lips. It made sense that she would assume the Captain was a hallucination; as far as she knew, there were only Chiss present aboard the _Springhawk_ and they had no human allies. "You are not hallucinating, _Elor'endil_, he is real," he told her in Basic. Her surprise at his assurance was tangible. "May I introduce Captain Voss Parck, my commanding officer. Captain, this is Chiara Matao, my wife."

Chiara wasn't so caught off guard by his introduction of a human as his commanding officer that she missed the last bit. "Wife? Since when?" she demanded in Cheunh, her tone a mixture of teasing and confusion. "Last I checked, you never married me by Republic standards."

Thrawn shrugged. "It's not entirely accurate, I admit, but would you rather I went into all the details of Chiss pairing?" he replied in Basic. Still staring at the Captain, she shook her head. "Now, please use Basic: the Captain does not speak Cheunh."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Chiara," Parck said, stepping forward. "I'm glad to see you awake and on the road to recovery."

"Thank you." Chiara glanced at Thrawn, still clearly trying to wrap her brain around the fact that this man was human. "So, when you said you weren't part of the Defense Fleet anymore, you meant..."

"I have no affiliation with the Chiss military, at this time," he told her, carefully keeping his voice and expression neutral. He hadn't intended to tell her this, yet, but now that she had seen the Captain, she wasn't going to rest until she had the whole story. He gestured Parck to a chair. "Please, Captain, have a seat."

Her forehead wrinkled. "How did that happen?"

"I was exiled for making a pre-emptive strike. Captain Parck found me on my planet of exile and recruited me to their military academy. I've served under him ever since then," he told her.

Chiara glanced from him to the Captain, obviously trying to put the pieces together and not realizing that she was missing several key pieces. "If I didn't know better, I would say the Captain is from the Republic, but last I checked the Republic has no military."

"That would be because the Republic no longer exists," the Captain told her. "The Empire rules, now."

Thrawn braced himself for Chiara's reaction to finding out that the Republic she had served for so long was no more, wishing that he could have told her himself and in a more private setting. Thrawn held his breathas she considered in silence for a moment. "I suppose it was inevitable," she said finally. "It was turning into nothing more than a self-serving, corrupt and bloated beauracracy. That's part of why it was so easy for me to leave." She sniffed the air as the ventilation system wafted the delicious smells rising from the covered dish on the table over to her. "Is that karthali stew?"

Thrawn was equally relieved by the change of subject and also that she hadn't seemed more upset by the fall of the Republic. Perhaps, in her Jedi foresight, she had seen it coming, although she hd never mentioned it to him, if she had. Thrawn wondered if she had truly distanced herself from it enough that she was no longer troubled by it, or if she was suppressing her reaction in front of the Captain. He didn't doubt that she would have more questions for him about the fall of the Republic and the circumstances that lead to his exile, but she seemed to sense that this was neither the time nor the place for such a discussion.

Her reaction to the destruction of the Jedi Order surely wouldn't be nearly as calm, though, and he had yet to decide whether or not he wanted the Captain to know that she was a Jedi. If the Emperor or Lord Vader ever discovered that there was a Jedi still alive, even one whom had left the Order over fifteen years before its fall, they would almost surely kill her. Thrawn swallowed hard. He had just gotten her back, he was not about to risk losing her to them.

"Thrawn?" Chiara asked, picking up on his distraction.

He brought himself back to the present with a mental shake. There would be time enough to work that out, later. "Yes, it is. I had it sent in for you from the _Strikefast_, the ship that I serve on, now." He started to disengage himself from her to retrieve the bowl, but the Captain was faster.

"Here you are, my lady," he said courteously, passing the bowl to Chiara.

"Thank you, Captain." She took off the lid and sniffed appreciatively at it. "I haven't had this in years!" She spooned up a bit of the broth and tasted it tentatively. Her eyes widened just a bit as the flavors exploded across her tongue and she eagerly scooped up more, chasing down a bit of the karthali meat.

"Not too fast, or you will make yourself sick," Thrawn warned her. "You see, Falmi was right; you are hungry, you've just gotten so used to it that you don't notice it, anymore. If you would stop being stubborn and listen to our medic, perhaps you would find that he does know what he is talking about." A hint of the sardonic tone he had always used when teasing her crept into his voice as he said the last bit.

Chiara made a face at him. "Don't tease me, I'm trying to eat."

"I would never presume to do such a thing," he told her solemnly, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

Captain Parck gave them a knowing smile and stood. "Well, I should return to the bridge. It was a pleasure to meet you, Chiara, and I will look forward to getting to know you more."

"It's an honor to meet Thrawn's commander, sir," Chiara returned. "I will look forward to seeing the _Strikefast_ and meeting your crew."


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Chiara kept her eyes closed as she woke, taking care not to move or give any other indication that she was awake. She could see light filtering through her eyelids, which meant that she wasn't in her cell; there was never any light there, only blind darkness. In those moments when of crushing blackness when the darkness pressed in on her and threatened to swallow her up, it was all she could do to call an image of Thrawn's face to her mind and hold tightly to it, clinging to it like an anchor in the storm of madness that swirled around her and threatened to claim her as its own. As the time had worn on, the image of Thrawn started to fray, the features she had once known so well becoming less and less distinct until they finally melted away. It had reached a point where all she could remember were his eyes: twin points of glowing red that burned through the inky darkness like a beacon of hope. But even those eyes had begun to fade, eventually.

It wasn't darkness that awaited her today, though, it was light, the only thing worse than the endless dark. Worse, because it always meant that her captors had brought her out for some cruel new torture. She tensed reflexively, resignedly preparing herself for the inevitable agony.

"Chiara, it's alright. You're on the _Springhawk_. You're safe," a voice that somehow seemed familiar murmured soothingly in her ear. The same voice that had promised her rescue more times than she could count, only to disappear like a puff of smoke in the wind when she opened her eyes, searching for the barely remembered face that should go with it.

But no, this time it wasn't just an insubstantial voice promising her equally fictitious protection. She could hear his heart beating, feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest where she had laid her head as he breathed, feel the strong yet gentle warmth of his arms that held her. Holding her breath, she opened her eyes cautiously. The muted lighting of Thrawn's bedside glowlamp cast a soft glow over the bed and their familiar quarters. Only the day before, Falmi had declared her well enough to return to their quarters for the remainder of her recovery. As it all slowly came back to her, Chiara found herself speculating again that this was mainly because it had become too difficult to keep out the endless string of visitors that had begun shortly after word spread among the crew that she was awake.

Chiara took a deep breath and relaxed into the comforting arms that engulfed her. "Thrawn," she murmured, using the name to anchor herself to the reality that she had woken to three days ago. She was indeed safe and her tormenters had been destroyed completely by the man who held her so gently. She turned her head slightly, brushing her lips against the blue skin above his breastbone. His arms tightened briefly around her waist and she felt him place a tender kiss on the top of her head. It felt rather odd to have his lips brush her scalp directly, instead of her hair. When she had caught sight of herself in the mirror of their 'fresher, the first thing she did after she recovered from the shock of her drastically altered appearance was ask Thrawn to cut off what little remained of her hair. She couldn't even remember what the Laehcar had done to tear out such large sections of her hair. Her reflection was utterly unrecognizable as the strong, fearless Jedi she had once been, but her shaved head was still an improvement over the horrible, straggly mess she'd had. Even so, she knew Thrawn had hated cutting off her hair; he'd always loved the color of her dark auburn tresses and running his fingers through the gentle waves. She hoped it would grow back for his sake as much as for hers.

Her color was beginning to improve already, though, and she was starting to feel a bit stronger. Being able to eat again had done wonders in that department. Falmi was still strictly regulating how much she was allowed to eat, but she was allowed five or six small meals throughout the day. The best part about the whole arrangement was that Thrawn kept having the _Strikefast'_s cook send her favorite meals to her, foods she had been missing ever since she left the Republic so many years before.

"What are you thinking about?" Thrawn asked, reaching over to key on the main room lights. He had caught on quickly to her fear of the dark and had been carefully keeping lights on for her. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip in a sweet caress, his hand resting lightly on her cheek.

Chiara propped her chin on his chest so she could look at him, cushioning it with one hand. It hadn't escaped her notice thhat she had left a darker blue bruise over his breastbone where she had rested her chin a few days before. Now, with the sharp point of her jawbone digging into her hand, she could see why she had bruised him unintentionally. He hadn't complained, though, nor had he said a word about the deep gouges she had left in his cheek with her nails before he had managed to wake her from a nightmare on that first night. He'd been a bit more cautious about how he woke her from the dark dreams, since then. Thanks to the liberal application of bacta by the _Strikefast_'s medics, the only evidence left of the injury was the slightly lighter color of new skin on his cheek.

"I was thinking how lucky I am," she told him.

One blue-black eyebrow arched at her. "Lucky?"

"That I have you," she explained. "You haven't given yourself a single thought since I woke up. I know this hasn't been easy on you, either, and I've been rather high-maintenance, yet you haven't said a single word about it. Or about this." She reached up and brushed her fingertips across his cheek where her nails had gouged him.

Thrawn caught her hand and pulled it away from the new skin to his lips. "And I never will," he told her. "Can you not see? I spent nearly six years thinking you were dead. I can say without hesitation that those were the blackest years of my life. And yet here you are, come back to me beyond all hope. I am the one on whom fortune has smiled, _Elor'endil_. I thought that my love for you could not possibly grow stronger, before. Now, though, it has grown to a depth and breadth I could never have possibly imagined. You have suffered far more in the last few years than anyone should have to endure in their entire lifetime. I will spend the rest of my days seeking to erase those memories, or at least replace them with ones that bring you pleasure, and heal the hurts that have been caused to you."

Chiara searched for something to say, but came up empty. Somehow, though, she knew she didn't need to say anything at all. Thrawn's glowing eyes burned into hers, that warm smile that he only gave her playing about his mouth. She held his gaze for a moment before lowering he head back to his chest. They lay together in each others arms, savoring the closeness that they once again shared.

"Are you hungry?" Thrawn asked finally, breaking their comfortable silence.

Her stomach growled at his reminder. "Starving," she told him, an ironic smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"That is not amusing," he growled softly as he helped her sit up in their bed and carefully arranged the pillows for her to recline against.

"Sorry," she murmured.

Thrawn made a visible effort to lighten his expression. "No matter. What would you like to eat?"

Chiara watched him for a moment, considering. Why did he keep pushing down his own reactions to things? Her stomach gurgled more insistently, demanding that she fill it before trying to root out the cause of Thrawn's behavior. "Nerf sausage sounds delicious."

"Then nerf sausage you shall have." He retrieved the cylindrical form of his comlink from the _Strikefast_ and gave the order. While they were waiting for the meal to be delivered, the door indicator chirped softly. Chiara fought back a momentary surge of panic as Thrawn slid out of the bed and crossed to the door, pulling a tunic over his head as he did so, an keyed open the door. She felt so vulnerable when he was more than an arms reach away. "Daithi, please come in," he invited.

"Good morning, Thrawn, Chiara," Daithi greeted. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I seem to have forgotten a spare uniform."

Chiara glanced up at Daithi sharply, watching as he made his way over to the drawers set into the wall and rifled through them, pulling out a fresh uniform. Suddenly, something clicked. She'd noticed that something seemed vaguely off here, but she had attributed that to the extended separation and figured that Thrawn had simply rearranged a few things. Now, though, she could see that the subtle touches were definitely from a hand other than his.

"Have we put you out of your quarters?" Chiara questioned, throwing a surprised look at their old friend.

"Well, technically speaking, since I am the Captain now, yes. But, as you can see, I've never really changed much, here. When I was assigned the _Springhawk_ after Thrawn's exile, I just couldn't quite bring myself to take down his artwork. Besides, he has always had much better taste that I could ever hope to have," Daithi told her. "These quarters might as well still be his and I thought you would be more comfortable here."

And there it was, again; everyone was bending over backwards for her. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling for a Jedi who had spent most of her life focusing on the needs of others. "You didn't have to do this," she told him.

Daithi flashed her a rare smile. "I know, Chiara. Don't concern yourself with it. I'm in one of the officer's quarters just a few doors down. You can keep this one as long as you like. Personally, I'm just glad to have you back."

She rested her head against the pillows Thrawn had arranged behind her. "Thank you, Daithi. I really do appreciate it."

Just then, the door alert sounded again. Thrawn keyed the door open for two warriors bearing their meals on trays. He gestured for them to leave both of the trays on the bedside table. Chara recoiled as, for one horrible moment, one of the warrior's face shifted and contorted into the repulsive, leering visage of the Laehcar that had been her main jailkeeper. She nearly retched up what little food remained in her stomach from her last meal, right there.

Thrawn caught her distress immediately. "Dismissed," he snapped, his attention on Chiara as he dropped to the bed and reached out for her. He gently gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his strong, broad chest. She gasped for breath and grabbed a handful of his thin tunic, trying to find something to anchor herself this reality as the blackness off her cell started to eat away at the corners of her vision. She shook her head violently in an attempt to clear it and stared hard into Thrawn's glowing eyes, trying to hold on to the two bright points of light as the darkness closed in around her. She could hear him talking to her, trying to soothe and comfort her in her fear. She latched on to the sound and pushed back against the dark vision that was trying to swallow her. Gradually, little by little, the blackness receded until she could see Thrawn again and see Daithi hovering concernedly over his shoulder.

"Chiara?" Thrawn murmured, seeing her eyes come back into focus on his face.

"I- I- I'm okay," she stammered out. "It just caught me off guard, that's all."

Thrawn ran his fingers tenderly over cheek and she leaned into his touch. "Oh, Chiara. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have known that having so many people in the room at once could trigger that."

They had found that out the hard way, yesterday - any time there were more than two or perhaps three people present, it triggered flashbacks to the times that the Laehcar had crowded around her to torture her. That was a large part of why Falmi had forbidden any further visitors from the crew, for the present. The only ones allowed to see her were Thrawn, Daithi, the medics and Captain Parck. Not that the latter had any spare time to visit her, but the permission was there, should he decide to drop in.

"It's alright, it wasn't your fault," she assured him, trying to let some of the tension drain out of her aching muscles. Thrawn noticed the effort and gently started working some of the kinks out of her neck with one hand. From the expression on his face, clearly he didn't agree, but at least he didnt' argue the point with her. She glanced up at where Daithi hovered anxiously above her. "I'm okay, Daithi, really," she repeated, finally bringing her shaking voice under control. "Go on, don't be late for your duties."

Reluctantly, the Captain of the _Springhawk _slipped out the door, leaving her and Thrawn alone. She heaved a sigh and carefully extricated herself from his arms, moving back over to her stack of pillows and leaning wearily against them. She let her eyes close for just a moment as she focused on slowing the hammering of her heart. Thrawn was still staring at her as she opened her eyes, feeling marginally more calm. Her stomach growled again, cutting across the silence. Wordlessly, Thrawn retrieved her tray of food and handed it to her, then slid into the bed beside her with his own tray. He slid one arm around her waist and kept it there while they ate.


	16. Chapter 15

AN: Sarah, thank you so much for your review! I'm honored that you found my stories binge-reading worthy. :) I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of Thrawn. From Outbound flight and the novellas about him, I've just always felt that he had an entirely different side than the stern, icy Grand Admiral that we were first introduced to. That's the side I've tried to explore a bit more.

* * *

**Chapter 15  
**

Later that evening, Chiara sat curled up on the couch with Thrawn, occasionally reading over his shoulder as he sifted through reports. It felt odd to her to be reading in Basic again. She and Thrawn had always tended to alternate between speaking Cheunh and Basic so they could both continue to work on their language skills, but she hadn't even had a datapad when she ended up in Chiss space. Thrawn had already obtained one from her from the _Strikefast_ and loaded it with recreational reading materials, but she had been content to just sit quietly with him as he worked. It reminded her of their early days together, when she had been injured in the battle with the Eeleme.

The door chime sounded, breaking in on their quiet reverie, and Falmi strode in. "How are you feeling this evening, Chiara?" he asked without preamble as he set down his small case of supplies.

"A little better. I'm not quite so tired," she told him. "And the headache is mostly gone."

"Excellent. Any more hallucinations?" He asked as he took a sample of her blood and loaded it into his portable analyzer.

Chiara glanced at Thrawn. "Just one this morning, and that was relatively brief."

The medic nodded. "That is a good sign, indeed. I think you may have finished clearing the hallucinogens from your system." He frowned briefly. "This does, of course, mean that withdrawal is likely to set in, soon," he warned them.

She felt Thrawn's arm tighten around her waist briefly. "Can't you give her medications to help with the withdrawal?" he asked.

"That will depend on what her symptoms are," the other replied examining the results from the analyzer. "Your immune system is greatly weakened, Chiara. I'm going to give you an infusion to try to bolster it. We certainly don't want you getting sick in your current condition."

The medic loaded a vial into the hypospray and took a step towards her. Chiara flinched violently back into Thrawn, cowering against him. He responded instantly, pulling her into his lap and cradling her comfortingly against his chest. Falmi stopped short, looking mildly stricken at his mistake. "Forgive me, Chiara, I forgot." He altered his course and passed the injector to Thrawn, instead.

Chiara trembled at the sight of the hypospray in his hand, images of the Laehcar holding her down and forcing injections on her flashing before her eyes. Not just hallucinogens, either; they had been particularly fond of giving her a sensory stimulant before torturing her that amplified every sensation a hundredfold. She hated the sight of hyposprays and had struck Falmi out of fear when he tried to give her an injection on the first day she had been awake. He had let Thrawn give her all the injections since then. She could barely tolerate the presence of the hated device, even in the hands of the man that she knew would never hurt her. Despite the fact that she trusted him implicitly, the sight of the instrument that had been forcibly used on her so many times and with such horrific results was enough to test her control of her reactions to the extreme.

Thrawn slipped his arm out from behind her back and gently took her chin in his hand, trying to redirect her gaze. Her eyes stayed warily on the silvery object in his hand, though. "Look at me," he prompted quietly. Chiara slowly tore her gaze from the hated object in his hand and looked into his fiery eyes. _He would never hurt me or let anyone else do so_, she reminded herself, letting his glowing eyes fill her field of vision so she wouldn't see the hypospray coming. She flinched into Thrawn's chest as she felt the cold metal caress her neck, but his hand followed the movement and she heard the hiss of dispersing medicine and felt the pinch of the injection. He handed the injector back to Falmi, the fingers of his right hand already massaging away the sting of the injection. The medic quietly packed up his supplies and slipped out, leaving them alone.

"I'm sorry I'm being so ridiculous and that you have to give me everything," she whispered, trying to still the shaking of her limbs and feeling like a ship with a misfiring gyro. She knew that Thrawn hated giving her the injections when they made her so afraid.

"Don't be," Thrawn told her, resting his forehead against hers. "It is perfectly logical that you would be afraid of being given medications, given the fact that the Laehcar were drugging you. I'm sure there is more to it that you aren't telling me, as well."

Chiara gulped. "Yes. I... I'm not ready to talk about that yet, though."

"You don't have to," he assured her. "Now, are you hungry?"

She shook her head. "Just tired. I think I'd like to lay down, for a bit."

Thrawn stood easily with her in his arms and carried her to the bed. She might have objected to him carrying her if she wasn't still shaking; she was already trying to build her strength and wasted muscles back up as much as she could. This morning, she had managed to cross from the bed to the couch without any assistance from Thrawn. It was only five steps, but it was a start. She sighed as he lowered her gently to the bed and slid in beside her.

"You know, I think I am more rested now than I have been in years," he teased her as she arranged herself comfortably against him, using his shoulder as a pillow. Her heart rate was slowly returning to normal the trembling was subsiding, as well.

Chiara felt her cheek twitch in amusement. "Shh, I'm sleeping," she chastised him in mock-seriousness.

"Excuse me," he chuckled, pulling the blanket over her shoulder and folding her in his arms.

Try though she might, sleep wouldn't come, so she just lay there quietly in his arms and listened to the reassuring sound of his breathing and the steady beating of his heart. Somehow sensing that she had given up on sleep, Thrawn traced his fingers slowly up and down her arm. After a few minutes, he broke the silence with a question. "Have you tried to use the Force, yet?"

Chiara looked up at him, frowning a bit at the mixture of surprise and trepidation she felt at such a simple question. "No. It's been so long since I could even think coherently enough to try, I'm even sure I remember how." If she was honest with herself, it was more that she was afraid to try: Anytime the Laehcar had even suspected she was trying to reach out to the Force, they had forced more drugs on her and then beaten her brutally. Although she logically knew that wouldn't be the case, here, the uneasiness lingered.

As if he could feel the imperceptible shiver that ran through her, Thrawn tightened his arms around her. "I doubt that a few years can erase a lifetime of practice and your mind seems clear enough that you could do it, now. Try," he encouraged.

Chiara gazed into his glowing red eyes for a moment, seeing there a steadily burning love and a fierce, almost possessive protectiveness. Normally, she knew, that protectiveness would chafe at her and cause sparks to fly between them. Now, though, it made her feel safe and secure. She saw something else in his eyes, too; a quiet acceptance of this new reality that she was no longer the utterly fearless, reckless woman he had chosen to be paired with. She knew that he hoped she could become that again with time, but he was also prepared to acccept the possibility that she would be forever changed by her years of captivity. If she chose to walk away from the Force and the from the life of a warrior, he wouldn't judge her for that. He would take it in stride and find a new way to mold his life around her. Somehow, that knowledge gave her courage. She closed her eyes and relaxed against his chest, pushing her nagging unease aside and reaching outside herself for the nebulous river of energy that was the Force.

She gasped as it washed over and through her, tingling through every nerve and bringing her surroundings into sharper focus as if a fog had been lifted from her eyes. It felt as comfortable as slipping on old boots and filled her with a warmth, assurance and strength. _Peace over anger, honor over hate, strength over fear._ The old, familiar words drifted through her mind. She was aware of the other lives that moved around her, of the warriors who walked the corridors of the _Springhawk_, carrying out their duties. She could also feel the countless, more distant presences of the crew of the _Strikefast. _She found assurance in the strength and awareness that coursed through her. In that moment, she was no longer a helpless prisoner, but a Jedi again, strong of heart and fearless. Her body was still weak, but the Force would sustain her through any dangers she might face. And Thrawn wouldn't let anyone come near enough to be a danger to her until she had finished healing.

Holding on to that certainty, she let the Force slide through her fingers, releasing her hold on its energy. This time, though, instead of feeling completely cut off from its power, she could still feel it pulsing around and through her, waiting for her to draw on it. She found that she was still afraid, but there was a deep tranquility that coursed through her and a surety that she hadn't felt in years. Thrawn apparently sensed the change, too, because she felt his arms tighten around her briefly in encouragement and then relax.

_Thrawn_. She could feel his presence beside her, feel him whispering in the little corner of her mind that his sense always occupied, but that had been walled away from her for so long. Missing the way she had always been able to sense his mood and often follow the general direction of his thoughts, she grasped the Force again reached out towards his mind, brushing it with a feathering touch. She felt a blast of emotion from him at the contact, one that seemed exponentially amplified from anything she had ever felt before. She recoiled at the violence of it for a moment, then touched his mind again, curious at this new level of intensity. She lingered this time, letting his emotions flow over and through her, irresistibly drawn by what she sensed there. There was a deep, burning love there; not the boiling, hot passion of lust that flared without warning and died away just as quickly, but the slow, steady burning of a star that could go on for a millennia. There was a quiet joy there, too, one that she knew he would never express, simply because he was too reserved and too steeped in the stoic Chiss culture. She could feel a sense of relief, too; relief that she truly did seem to have escaped from any permanent harm. There was worry and dread, too, though she couldn't quantify the emotions or find their origins. And underneath all of that was a bone-crushing weight of guilt. Curiosity aroused, she pushed at gently, trying to trace the emotion to its root, but it had become so jumbled and woven throughout his other emotions that she couldn't find where it came from.

.._safe to give it to her? Having her lightsaber back might help her feel more secure, but she could do a great deal of harm to herself or to me if she has another nightmare and has it within arm's-_

Chiara jerked, breaking the contact and stared at Thrawn with wide eyes. Had she just heard his thoughts? His startled expression reflect hers, almost as if he had felt something, as well. "Thrawn, what were you just thinking?" she asked, carefully keeping her voice steady. She noted that her voice sounded infinitely stronger and more certain than it had a few moments ago, before she had touched the Force again.

"I was thinking that something felt... odd," he told her, frowning.

So he had felt it, too. "Before that," she clarified.

He looked at her for a moment, clearly considering what to tell her of his thoughts. "I was thinking about whether or not I should give you back your lightsaber, yet."

The air went out of her in a rush. "I heard you. Your thoughts. I... I don't know how I did that." And he had felt it, too, that much was clear.

Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows shot up. "How is that possible?"

Chiara considered. "I'm not quite sure. I used to touch you with the Force all the time to get a sense of your mood or the general direction your thoughts were taking, but nothing like this. I could actually hear your fully formed thoughts as clearly as if you were speaking them."

"And I could never tell when you did it, before. Why, then, was this time different?" he wondered, running a finger absently over the tip of her ear.

Chiara felt her forehead crease into a frown as she thought through what she had done. She had reached out to the Force like normal, then reached for Thrawn and-

"Oh!" she exclaimed as it clicked. Before, she had always reached out towards him with the intention of simply sensing his emotional state, whereas this time, she had forgotten herself and reached directly for his mind. That was a line she had never felt comfortable with crossing in her many years as a Jedi - it seemed too intimate to her, too personal and skirting too close to the Dark Side if she gave in to the temptation to manipulate those thoughts to suit her own purposes. She knew some Jedi had no problem with this and didn't object to manipulating someone else's thoughts for what they believed was the better, but she had never approved of this practice. Simply listening to a general sense of someone's emotions had never troubled her, but she had never gone deeper than that. To her, it felt like the difference to simply noticing the tone of a conversation going on around her, rather than eavesdropping on the actual words.

"What?" Thrawn prompted.

"I accidentally touched your mind, instead of just your emotions," she explained. "I'm sorry, Thrawn, I didn't mean to do it. I know some Jedi are comfortable with doing this sort of thing, but I never have been. I did it once and felt like I had violated the mind of the person I touched and never did again. It's too familiar, too intimate."

Thrawn raised one eyebrow at her. "You were actually inside my mind?"

"Yes. It was an accident. Your thoughts are your own and I have no right to invite myself into them. I'm sorry." She glanced at him, afraid that she had somehow broken his trust by forcing her way into his mind, uninvited. She saw only a steady, searching look on his familiar features.

"Why do you feel it was too intimate? What have I ever held back from you?" He asked as he ran his fingers along her jawline, seeming to pick up on the concern in her eyes. "You haven't overstepped your bounds or violated any trust between us, _El'oren'dil_. What is mine is yours; that isn't restricted simply to material possessions."

His use of the term of endearment he had given her early in their relationship helped assuage some of her doubts. The term didn't translate well into Basic, nor could she quite sort out the complex connotations of the Cheunh, but he had explained it to her as an indication of absolute devotion to someone or something on every possible level; mental, physical and emotional. In this context, it could also imply the joining together of two distinct entities into one unit, neither losing their individuality but blending together to complete the other. Was this really such a violation, if they truly were one? Thrawn didn't seem to think so. Her fear that she would be tempted to manipulate the thoughts of another also didn't seem to apply, here; she loved Thrawn far too much to try to change him.

"Surely you don't want me randomly eavesdropping on your thoughts, though," Chiara pointed out, even as she thought about the incredible depth of emotion she had felt from him when she touched his mind. She had always known that he felt much more deeply than he let on, but she had never understood just how deeply. She felt drawn to touch his mind again, to explore the deeper places of his mind and emotions.

He shrugged expressively. "It is not eavesdropping if you are welcomed and invited in. As long as I can feel it when you listen, I don't see it is a problem. If there is something I am not yet ready to share with you, I can either think in a language you don't know or ask you not to listen for that time. As long as there are clearly defined boundaries, I do not see it being an issue. In fact, I can see many possible benefits that could arise from such a connection. I do not wish for you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, though, so I will leave this up to your judgement."

She absorbed this opinion in silence for a moment. He was actually encouraging her to touch his mind, to explore the possibilities and doors this could open in their relationship. She took a deep breath and reached out towards his mind again. Thrawn shifted a bit beside her as he felt the pressure of her mind against his. She could sense his curiosity at this new contact and knew that he had been waiting for her to touch him again. It struck her as amusing - shortly after they met, he nearly had her executed out of fear of her abilities. Now, he was encouraging her to use those same abilities to touch his mind and explore his thoughts and emotions. Now that she was aware what it was that she was doing, the slightly foreign feeling of his thoughts wasn't quite so jarring to her.

_Yes, El'oren'dil, _the deep tenor of his thoughts resounded in her mind. _You have shared in every aspect of my life for so many years. Is it not right that we should share in this, too? You belong here with me. _She felt a a rush of love sweep over her, enfolding her like a warm blanket. She could sense that he was fully ready to embrace this new facet of their relationship and see where it led them.

There was something else, too, tickling on the edge of her awareness. She gently pushed forward, sorting through his stray thoughts and emotions until she found it; the throbbing undercurrent that of guilt that lingered in the corners of his mind. She examined it curiously, thinking back to the occasional self-reproach she had heard in his voice and to the comments he had made that he should have rescued her sooner. In that moment, she saw his future stretch out before her and saw this guilt slowly grow, casting a dark pall over his heart and tinging his every moment with an oppressive blackness. She saw the hardened set to his mouth and the bitterness in his eyes as he allowed his past mistakes to steal from him the opportunities presented to him by the future. A memory stirred of a time in her own life, so many years ago where she had felt a similar, aching guilt and bitterness over her own mistakes and she knew that he had reached the same place that she had after the death of her Padawan and the many beings whom she had been responsible for protecting on that ill-fated mission. And now it was her turn to help him find a way to move beyond his guilt, just as her former Master had helped her, so long ago.

She withdrew from his mind more gradually, this time, contemplating. "Thrawn," she murmured after a moment, taking his hand in hers. "You can't go on blaming yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault. The Laehcar were far more devious than we ever realized. Even I didn't see it until it was too late."

If he was surprised by the abrupt shift in conversation, he didn't show it. "And yet I had all the evidence I should have required to see through it right before my eyes, if only I had looked," he told her.

"You don't know that, Thrawn. Even if you had, what's done is done. I'm still here and we're together, now. That's all that matters," she told him.

"Perhaps," Thrawn said noncommittally.

Chiara shook her head at him. "If I'm not allowed to be a martyr, then you're not allowed to carry the weight of the past. Just let it go, Thrawn."

"It is not so simple as you make it sound," he told her.

"Isn't it?" she asked. "You forget that I have the blood of a dozen innocents on my hands, including my own Padawan. I am not saying that the guilt I grappled with was exactly the same as yours, but I do understand what you are feeling. As a very wise Jedi Master told me, Thrawn, the point of being a Jedi is not that we don't fall, the point is that we learn from our mistakes that we may avoid repeating them again. If you live in the past, you will only make more mistakes in the future. Learn from your mistakes, accept them and move on."

Thrawn sighed. "I can acknowledge that you are right. I spent the last six years blaming myself for sending you on that mission to what I thought was your death. Now I understand that that guilt kept me from seeing that you were still alive. I am not sure how to stop blaming myself for my oversight and the suffering that you endured because of it, though," he admitted.

Chiara stroked his cheek tenderly. "If I could learn to stop being a martyr after several hundred years of practice at it, I think you can learn to stop carrying the weight of your mistakes. Just let me help you."

Thrawn regarded her for a moment, then let out a sigh. "Very well. I will try."

"Do or do not, there is no try," she told him, quoting Master Yoda. A mischievous smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Besides, with me being able to see into your mind, now, you're not going to be able to hide it from me if you are still trying to hold on to the guilt."

Thrawn groaned. "On second thought, maybe that isn't such a good idea."

"Too late," Chiara teased him, pushing herself up on one elbow and staring down into his glowing eyes. She reached out with the Force and brushed his mind again, not trying to listen this time, but experimentally caressing his sense with a feathery touch. He closed his eyes and she heard the sharp intake of his breath. She leaned in and brushed her lips against his as she repeated her mental caress. She drew back to assess his reaction, not quite sure how to interpret the many flickers of thought and emotion that she felt in him.

His fiery eyes glittered with unmistakeable passion as they opened and locked on to hers. "Do that again," he prompted, reaching for her and pulling her down against his chest.


	17. Chapter 16

AN: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter, guys. Life has been getting in the way. I think I should be able to get another chapter posted tonight or tomorrow. As always, reviews are love!

Warning: This chapter has references to and touches briefly on Chiara's torture. It is **not** graphic, but definitely has a more mature content than the other chapters have had.

* * *

**Chapter**** 16****  
**

The next day was, by far, the worst Chiara had experienced since Thrawn rescued her. Falmi's prediction that withdrawal would set in soon had come to be, leaving her shivering uncontrollably from chills and setting her heart racing. Far worse were the muscle spasms that wracked her body. Thrawn did his best to try to work the painful knots out of her muscles as quickly as they appeared, but even his strong hands tired, eventually. Falmi had tried four different muscle relaxants, but none of them seemed to have any effect. At least the hypospray wasn't quite as difficult to tolerate, now. She reached out for Thrawn's mind every time he gave her an injection, clinging to the soothing words he murmured to her in his thoughts, letting his presence envelope her in warmth and safety.

Captain Parck had appeared for a visit midway through the day, but Thrawn had sent his commanding officer away, saying that Chiara required all of his attention and was in no fit state for company. He piled still more blankets on her to try to drive away the chills and held her quietly, trying to work the spasms out of her neck as Falmi searched for yet another muscle relaxant to try. That one didn't work any better than the others had, but as she clung to his thoughts to avoid her own fear, she noticed that the pain from her clenched muscles wasn't as noticeable when she was focused on his mind. They spent the rest of the day in a physical and mental embrace, with Thrawn holding her gently and still working to loosen the knots in her muscles as he also held her in his thoughts. He tried to hide from her the ache he felt at seeing her in so much pain until he realized this only drew her attention to the emotions he was trying firmly to tamp down into a corner of his mind. Instead, he occupied both their thoughts by reading to her in the rich, resonant tone that his thoughts always took, giving himself something to focus on besides how much he hated seeing her in pain and letting her lose herself in the tenor of his mind.

Every time she started to drift asleep, her connection to the Force slipped away and her mental link with Thrawn broke, leaving her vulnerable to the full agony of muscles contracted far too tight. By that time, small tears were starting to form in her muscles as a result of the extended cramps and the pain had reached excruciating levels. Falmi considered sedating her so she could rest, but they all agreed against it, fearing that she would be left unable to touch the Force if she regained consciousness before it had fully worn off, leaving her helpless against the pain. Mercifully, she finally became exhausted enough to fall asleep almost instantaneously at around 0430, making it unnecessary to give her any medications.

* * *

Thrawn woke with a start a short time later, suddenly aware that Chiara was locked in another nightmare, flailing blindly against him as she tried to fend off the tormenters in her dream. He cursed silently as he glanced at the chrono: it was only 0452 and Chiara had barely been asleep for twenty minutes. She needed rest badly enough that he was hesitant to wake her, but he also didn't want to leave her locked in her dark dreams. Sighing in frustration, he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, not wanting a repeat of her clawing at him as she woke up in a panic, and gently shook her shoulder with the other.

"Chiara," he called softly, trying to bring her out of the dream. She was so exhausted and deeply asleep that she didn't respond. He considered letting her sleep and ride out the nightmare until he saw her face contort with remembered pain and she moaned in her sleep. He shook her with a little more vigor, trying to rouse her from the torment of her dreams. Her face relaxed for a split second as she started to wake up and he felt her reflexively reach out for his mind to stem the pain that still wracked her fragile frame. He moved to wrap her in protective warmth and love as he felt her brush his thoughts... and then the world abruptly exploded.

When the blazing fragments of reality finally coalesced again into something he could recognize, Thrawn found that he was no longer aboard the _Springhawk_. He was in a brightly lit room, surrounded by shadowy silhouettes. He couldn't quite make them out against the glaring backlight that nearly blinded his sensitive eyes, but he somehow knew he should recognize their shapes. Something struck him from behind, driving him to his knees. He gasped in pain as a second blow followed the first and he felt blood begin to trickle down his back in a thin line. One of the shadowy shapes stepped forward and hauled him roughly to his feet, chittering angrily at him in an unfamiliar language. It shoved its face to within a few inches of his and leered at him. Thrawn felt a shock of horror as he recognized the face that hovered just inches from his own; it was one of the Laehcar.

Thrawn tried to draw back as his mind searched for a possible explanation of how he could possibly in a room full of an enemy that he had so thoroughly destroyed, but he found that he could not move. It was as if he was trapped inside a body that refused to respond to his commands. He could feel his arms and legs, but he could not force them to obey. The Laehcar seized his wrists roughly and yanked him forward onto his face. As he fell, he noticed a peculiar fact - instead of his normal blue skin, the Laehcar's fingers were curled around a delicate, pale white wrist. With a jolt, he realized what had happened; when Chiara had reached for his mind before she was fully awake, she had somehow dragged him into her nightmare with her as her exhaustion pulled her back down into sleep and into the embrace of her dark dreams.

He felt the bite of cold metal against his neck and heard the hiss of a hypospray dumping medication into his - no, Chiara's body. The effect was almost instant; every nerve in his body tingled as it was hyperstimulated. _So this is why she's afraid of hyposprays_, Thrawn thought through the haze of the dream as they dragged him forward towards the instrument of torture they had chosen for him, today. The gash across his back burned as it if was on fire, the pain far beyond anything he had ever experienced before. An agonized scream tore its way from his throat as they hooked him up to a grotesque-looking machine and began.

* * *

When Thrawn finally woke, he felt more exhausted than he had could remember being since he had been forced to go five days without sleep as part of his training in the Chiss Military Academy. His body ached with remembered pain and his heart was still pounding. He felt Chiara trembling in fear at his side as she tried to shake off the last vestiges of the nightmare and he tried to reach out to comfort her, but his muscles refused to respond. Fighting back the bile that rose in his throat, he doggedly kept trying to touch her until his arms finally obeyed. "Chiara," he gasped out hoarsely through a throat that was raw from screaming. It took a concerted effort to not flinch away mentally when he felt her mind brush against his, seeking his comfort. He felt her recoil from his mental touch as she felt the horror and the echoes of pain that still roiled through his mind.

"Oh, stars no, Thrawn," she whispered in a voice every bit as raw as his as he gathered her in his arms and cradled her against his chest, folding her protectively to his heart. His fingers grazed over the scar on her back and his own nerves burned with the remembered pain of the injury. "I didn't... you... I felt you with me in the dream. I- I'm sorry," she stammered out.

He tried to reply, to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but his lips refused to work. _It wasn't your fault, El'oren'dil_, he thought at her, instead, trying to push down his own lingering horror. _It's alright._

"No, you weren't supposed to see-" That was as far as she got before she broke down, sobbing in his arms. Still fighting to use limbs that trembled with phantom pain, Thrawn rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. To Thrawn, it felt as if she were coming apart at the seams, her emotional and physical agony washing over him in waves like great lines of breakers against a beach. He could count the times he had seen her cry on one hand, but never had he witnessed an utter breakdown like this. Her entire body shook with the sobs that tore from her. At first, Thrawn was disturbed to see her in such a state, but he quickly realized that the distress that she caught through their mental link only intensified her sobs. He forced himself to take deep breaths, trying calm the storm inside himself as he watched her fall apart. He continued murmuring soothing words to her mentally, but to no avail. Finally, he gave up trying to calm her and just held her until she cried herself out.

He was grateful that he had finally regained control of his voice and limbs by the time her sobs faded away into silence. He kissed her cheek gently and pulled her up into a sitting position with him, tucking the blankets around her shoulders to try and ward of the chills that still wracked her body.

"I'm sorry," she hiccuped at him. "I never wanted to you to see that, didn't want you to know. You shouldn't have had to see that, feel it."

"Chiara, you don't need to apologize to me for anything. None of this was your fault; not what happened today and not what happened then. You, of all people, didn't deserve any of this. I am sorry that I saw something you didn't want me to see, and I can understand why you might have chosen to hide it. But I am glad that I had a glimpse of what you went through; I understand some of your reactions better, now, and your fears," he explained. He left unsaid that he wished he hadn't had to feel the pain that she had been subjected to. After just that one taste, he couldn't fathom how she had managed to survive almost six years that without going mad.

"No," she insisted. "You shouldn't have seen that. No one should. I can feel how disgusted and horrified you are with me-"

"Chiara!" Thrawn exclaimed, cutting her off. "You misunderstand me. I am not disgusted at you, I am disgusted at the beings who would inflict such suffering on another being for their own amusement. I am horrified at the things you were subjected to, not at you. Chiara Matao, I love you with every fiber of my being and I want nothing more than to rewrite time so that you don't have to experience that. Since I cannot do that, I wish only to understand what happened to you and help you heal from it as best I can. If seeing and experiencing your nightmares is the best way to do that, then so be it. I only want to help you."

Thrawn felt a twinge of guilt as he saw a fresh wave of tears well up in her eyes. Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. But, instead of the torrent of tears he was expecting, only a single tear fell to her cheek. She stared at him silently for a moment, a mix of emotions warring on her face. "You would do that for me?" she whispered. "You would willingly subject yourself to my nightmares?"

Thrawn felt his entire body rebel at the suggestion, even if he was willing. "If that is what it takes, yes."

"Oh, Thrawn," she sighed, leaning into his chest and his mental touch simultaneously. "You don't need to do that. Although, if I am honest, I am somewhat glad that you saw my dream," she admitted. "I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid to. I didn't want you to feel worse about not finding me sooner. And I was afraid that you would be disgusted by me, if you knew what they did to me."

"Never," he reassured her, kissing her forehead. "Any negative emotion I may feel is directed at those who hurt you, _Elor'endil_, not at you. I hold nothing but the greatest love and respect for you. Even just the small glimpse I have had into what you experienced only reinforces my amazement that you could possibly endure such treatment for six years without losing your mind. I don't know anyone else who could have done it."

He felt the subtle pressure of her mind pressing against his as she examined his thoughts and the feelings that coursed through him, measuring his words against his innermost thoughts. In that moment, he was grateful for Chiara's ability to touch his mind, knowing that she could see the truth behind his words beyond any shadow of a doubt tha she might have otherwise had trouble accepting.

"You were what kept me going," she told him finally, resting her head against his shoulder. "Every time it got to the point where I thought I couldn't take it anymore, I pictured us together in that meadow in Crustai. I told myself that I just had to hang on until you found me. When I thought the darkness of my cell was going to drive me insane, I pictured your face. I don't think I could have held on for so long without you. I remember the day they came for me and..."

Chiara spent the next several hours recounting her time in the Laehcar's captivity to him. They both shuddered as she described their various methods of torture and the depths of their depravity. Every time she faltered and lost the courage to tell him about something, he felt her push deeper into his mind, taking shelter there from the horror of her own memories that haunted her still. Somewhere during the second hour, he felt the spasming of her muscles slowly subside. Thrawn massaged the remaining knots out of her muscles while she talked, feeling her gradually relax into his touch. When she finally finished her tale, she fell asleep in his arms, emotionally wrung out by recounting the many atrocities committed against her during her captivity. Her sleep, though, was the first peaceful sleep she'd had since they had rescued her. Despite Thrawn's attempt to stay awake to watch her and make sure she didn't start to slip into another nightmare, Falmi found the two of them sleeping soundly in each others arms when he came to check on her a few hours later.


	18. Chapter 17

AN: I have been thinking that I should come up with a title for this series, if I am going to keep writing it. I currently plan to write at least through the events of The Last Command. What do you guys think of the title_ "_Imperial Reckoning" for the series? Since it largely focuses on Thrawn and how his relationship with Chiara changes things... I'm also open to any other suggestions. Please either drop me a PM or review with your thoughts on this possible title for the series!

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**Chapter 17  
**

It was nearing midday when Chiara finally woke. Thrawn was grateful that he woken more than an hour before her, giving him time to work through his reactions to the many horrors she had related to him that she had endured at the hands of the Laehcar. By the time she woke, the only emotion he hadn't yet come to terms with was the white-hot fury which burned him that anyone had dared to inflict such suffering on Chiara. He suspected that anger would never truly subside; it would simply lay dormant until someone else dared to hurt the woman he loved.

Chiara didn't say anything when she woke, but Thrawn could feel the slight pressure of her mind as she stretched out towards him through the Force. The sensation had been distinctly foreign and other, at first, but he had gradually acclimated to her mental touch. Spending almost an entire day in mental contact to distract her from the pain of her spasming muscles had forced him to adapt rather quickly. Now, as he felt her mental caress, he found almost as reassurance in the touch as she did.

Thrawn brushed his lips against her forehead and tucked the blankets more tightly around her thin shoulders. He could still feel her incessant shivering from the chills brought on by withdrawal as she snuggled closer to his side, drawn to his warmth. "You're still cold?" he asked her, chafing her arms gently in an attempt to warm her.

"A little," she admitted.

Thrawn raised one eyebrow at her. "More than a little, I would say; you're still shivering. Do you want me to get more blankets?"

"It's alright, Thrawn, I'm fine. I really don't think another blanket will help, at this point," she told him wearily, in spite of her sleep.

"Are you certain? What else can I get you? A hot cup of _vikn_, perhaps?" he offered.

He could feel one corner of her lip twitch upward in amusement. "You've already done enough for me, Thrawn. The chills will pass eventually, just like everything else."

"Very well," he conceded. "You sound much better, today." He could still feel the barely perceptible pressure of her Force-touch and knew she caught the meaning behind his words; she sounded much more at ease than she had, previously, and the subtle edge of fear and uneasiness that tinged her voice had disappeared.

"I feel better. The fear is still there, but I don't feel like it is going to overwhelm me at any moment, now. I think that talking about things helped, even if it was difficult to do. Thank you." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "I am still sorry that you had to experience any of it, though. That shouldn't have happened; I'm not even sure how I did it."

Thrawn turned into her touch, kissing her fingers. One corner of his mind registered how thin and bony they had become, even as he reached up to thread his fingers through hers. He accidentally caught the bandage around her wrist, tugging on it before he could halt the motion of his hand. He felt her flinch just noticeably against his chest. "I'm sorry," he murmured, carefully smoothing the bandage back down "I forgot about your wrist. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Chiara kissed his shoulder. "It was an accident, Thrawn, stop worrying so much about breaking me."

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile. "Telling me to stop worrying is like telling the winds to stop blowing on Csilla," he told her, running his thumb lightly over the bandage to make sure it was still holding in place. "Have you thought about using one of your healing trances to take care of this? Surely it wouldn't take you long."

Inexplicably, she stiffened in his arms at the suggestion. "No!" she exclaimed a little more vehemently than was actually necessary.

Thrawn frowned at her, startled by her resistance to such a simple suggestion. Clearly, she had regained her ability to use the Force: It only made sense to use it to heal her body. "Alright, it was only a suggestion," he told her.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Thrawn mirrored the movement, keeping one arm around her waist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overreact. It's just..." she trailed off for a moment, her eyes unfocusing as she seemed to look past him. "That's how they caught me. They used my healing trance against me."

Thrawn's eyebrows shot up. She hadn't told him what had lead up to her capture yet, only what had happened while she was their prisoner. "How so?"

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment, clearly trying to steady herself. "They knew I wouldn't be able to defend myself if I was in a healing trance. I don't know how they knew it, but they did." She paused for a moment, organizing her thoughts. "They were waiting for me. They let me take my look around and pretended they didn't notice me until after I sent my report, then it was like they came out of nowhere. There were so many of them, I couldn't avoid their tractor beams. Once they had me on board one of their ships, I did only thing I could - I beat back their security team and then high-tailed it to the tractor beam relay station and did a bit of sabotage so I could make my escape. Now that I think about it, that part was perhaps a bit too easy. I should have known something was wrong, but I didn't see it. They put up one terrific fight once I started trying to make my way back to the clawcraft, though. What made absolutely no sense was that they withdrew almost as soon as one of them got in a lucky shot and hit me. I was bleeding too badly to stop and think about it, though, so I hurried back the ship and blasted my way out of the hangar."

"I was hurt badly enough that I knew I couldn't make it back to base before I bled out, so after I made the jump to hyperspace, I put myself into a healing trance. I thought that I could at least repair enough of the damage to stop the hemorrhaging." She trailed off, clearly lost in the memory.

"Except that you never made it back," Thrawn finished for her, the pieces falling together at last. "They must have had a gravity well projector already in place along your return path. They pulled you out of hyperspace while you were defenseless and took you captive. You never even had a chance."

"Yes," she whispered.

"That would to seen imply that the entire thing was a set up. They must have known I would send you to investigate because it was too far for any of my warriors to travel in a clawcraft. It would also indicate that they knew the location of the Crustai base, if they were able to set up their gravity well projector along your path." He shook his head at the calculating coldness of the plan; they knew they could never take her down as long as she could fight, so they hadn't even tried. They simply hurt her enough to make sure that she had to incapacitate herself by using a healing trance, then took advantage of her vulnerability. Even he had to admit the brilliance of the plan; it was an elaborate trap inside a trap. It pointed to the fact that it hadn't been a random coincidence that they had captured her; obviously, they had been gunning specifically for her. Why?

"I don't know for certain," Chiara said in answer to his unvoiced question. "I think they planned to use me to manipulate you when they were ready to move against the Ascendancy. Something went wrong, though. I remember them getting pretty upset and having a very heated argument a short time after they caught me. Up until that point, they had mostly just been keeping me drugged to keep me from escaping. It wasn't until that argument that they started torturing me on a regular basis. Before that, I had the distinct impression it was just to keep me too weak to escape."

Thrawn felt a muscle jump in his cheek as he set his teeth. What would he have done if he had been put in the position of having to choose between her life and betraying the Ascendancy? At least the swift trial and subsequent exile had spared him that. "The timing makes sense; I was exiled a little over three months after you were captured."

Chiara seemed to consider that for a moment, some of the tension lines smoothing out around her eyes as she had shifted her focus to something than her ordeal as a captive. "You still have told me what it was you did that earned you an exile."

"I destroyed the weapons manufacturing facility that you found to eliminate the threat they posed to the Ascendancy and in retribution for them killing you." Despite his best efforts, a trace of the old anger and bitterness creep into his voice at the way the Ascendancy had refused to acknowledge her death as an act of aggression against the Chiss people.

Chiara's eyes widened a bit. "They exiled you for that?"

He nodded tersely. "High Command refused to accept your death as a move against the Ascendancy and expressly forbid me from taking any action."

"And you attacked anyway." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Of course. They were clearly setting themselves up for a major campaign into Chiss space and had to be dealt with. And avenging a fallen mate is a warrior's final duty," he told her.

Chiara seemed to consider that for a moment. "And yet they used your attack as grounds to exile you and you couldn't talk your way out of it like you did the other tribunals?"

"They used it as their excuse to exile me, yes. I've always suspected that they would have found me guilty of an immoral attack no matter what I said in my own defense."

"How did you escape and end up in the Empire?" Chiara asked, stifling a yawn.

"Captain Parck happened upon my planet of exile. But perhaps that story should wait for another day; you look quite worn out."

Chiara brushed a finger across his cheek. "You do, too."

"I am fine," he assured her, ignoring his own weariness. "I have some reports to catch up on. You get your sleep, I'll be right here."

Chiara waited until he retrieved his datapad and settled in before she snuggled against his shoulder. Thrawn gave her a half-smile when he caught her looking up at him as he switched the datapad on and pulled up the reports. "Sleep," he told her, kissing her forehead, eyes already straying back to the text. She tilted her head back a bit and still stared up at him with her deep blue eyes, waiting. He chuckled as he realized what she was waiting for.

Setting the datapad aside once more, Thrawn cupped her cheek and traced his thumb over her too-sharp cheekbone and slowly bent his lips to hers. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting him to taste her. He felt her slip into his mind as his tongue tangled with hers and he gasped into her mouth as her mental probe drove deeper, homing in on his reactions to her physical touch. He clutched her closer, one hand grasping at her waist as he pressed her against his chest.

A sudden shiver shook her body, reminding him that she was still far from recovered and of Falmi's warning that she wasn't strong enough for any physical exertion. Thrawn broke away from her with a sigh. "Go to sleep," he murmured in her ear, resting his forehead against her. He couldn't help smiling at the disappointed look she gave him. "When you are stronger, _Elor'endil_," he promised her, knowing that day couldn't come soon enough for either of them. "Sleep."

Her mental touch stroked over his consciousness, a feather-light touch that made him shiver with pleasure. "I love you," she whispered as she settled into his shoulder, letting her connection the Force slip away as her eyes drifted closed.

Thrawn pressed his lips briefly to hers, knowing he would never tired of hearing her say those words. "And I love you," he told her, tucking her blankets a little more closely around her shoulders.


	19. Chapter 18

AN: Oops, went to fix a typo and accidentally deleted my original notes for this chapter. At any rate, thank you to Theo for suggesting the title for our series! I absolutely love Fire and Ice and definitely agree it works much better than anything I or my beta readers came up with! Glad you liked the explanation of why Thrawn attacked the Laehcar, too, Theo, I tried to make sure I emphasized this better than I previously had. Regarding the mind-sharing, or whatever you want to call it, I always wanted Thrawn and Chiara to have some sort of a vague mental connection. I hinted at this in Outsider and also in the prologue to this story. It wasn't going to be anything this deep, though, originally. I just finished re-reading Survivor's Quest and was struck by how much Luke and Mara's mental bond through the Force added to their relationship. It is so beautiful that I wanted to incorporate that into Thrawn and Chiara's relationship, even if it does have to be one-sided, since he isn't Force sensitive.

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**Chapter 18  
**

"I believe you called for some bacta," Captain Parck said, stepping through the door a few hours later. He flashed Chiara smile. "How are you feeling today, Chiara?"

"I've been better," she told him drily, teeth chattering as she continued to shiver violently. She had only managed to sleep for an hour before her chills became too severe and woke her, her entire body convulsing with cold. No amount of blankets or heat packs could assuage the chills and, after taking her temperature and determining that it was well within her normal parameters, Falmi determined that the chills were a symptom of her altered brain chemistry and therefore could not be effectively treated. The medic didn't think she was in any danger from them, aside from the toll the shivering was taking on her already-low energy reserves. She clutched the blanket a little tighter and leaned into Thrawn's shoulder, clearly exhausted and feeling miserable.

Thrawn grimaced sympathetically. He could remember all too vividly how it had felt when his environmental suit had been damaged while they were trapped in a blizzard on the surface of Csilla. She was in no danger of suffering frostbite or hypothermia, but he knew that didn't lessen her discomfort.

Thrawn accepted the bacta patches from Parck and unwound one of the bandages from around Chiara's wrist. He saw the Captain's eyes widen slightly as he saw how badly mangled her wrist was. He had been waiting for Chiara to regain her ability to use the Force so she could heal herself with a Jedi healing trance, as he knew she preferred to do, but it was obvious that she was going to need a lot more time to recover before she would be comfortable enough to use a healing trance. He could hardly fault her for the reluctance she felt at the idea using a trance, given the inherent vulnerability and the fact that the Laehcar had used her inability to protect herself to capture her. In time, he knew she would overcome her fear but, for now, it was better not to push the issue.

"I'm sure you have," the Captain said, watching as Thrawn applied the bacta patch to the injury. "I have news, Thrawn, and I'm afraid you aren't going to like it," he said, shifting his attention to his junior officer. "There is dissent brewing in the Artisa system and we've received orders to deal with the dissenters before it spreads."

Thrawn felt his heart sink. He had hoped to have more time before they received new orders - it was far too soon for him to leave Chiara alone. She shifted uneasily beside him, clearly having the same thoughts.

"You could bring her with us, I suppose," Parck continued. "It would be extremely unusual on an Imperial ship, but under the circumstances, I think it could be justified."

"No," Thrawn said flatly. If anyone ever figured out who or what she was and word got back to the Emperor or Darth Vader that he was attached to a Jedi, the consequences to them both would be staggering. He didn't doubt that they would both be executed. He had to keep her away from the Empire and anyone who might betray them, deliberately or through an innocent slip, at all costs. "No," he repeated more softly. "I cannot take Chiara with me. No one in the Empire can know about her. It's not safe."

Parck frowned at him. "What do you mean, 'not safe,' Thrawn?"

Thrawn met his commanding officer's gaze evenly. He had thought long and hard about what to tell Parck. The Captain already knew about her, so there was no avoiding that. Sooner or later, he would get a glimpse of Chiara's abilities and, given the fact that he had served with a number of Jedi during the Clone Wars, Thrawn had no doubt that the astute Captain would quickly put the pieces together. He had come to the conclusion that it was better to tell him about what Chiara was before he stumbled across her identity on his own. That didn't make him any more comfortable with putting Chiara's fate in someone elses hands, though. He had contingency plans, of course, if the Captain gave him any indication that he intended to turn Chiara or the information about her existence over the the Emperor or Vader, but he fervently hoped that he didn't have to resort to such drastic measures, especially against the one man in the Empire that he considered his friend. There was only one way to find out how his Captain would react. A microscopic sigh escaped him. "She's a Jedi, sir."

In that moment, seeing the look that flashed across Parck's face, Thrawn thought that he had misjudged his Captain and the faith the man had in him. He enveloped Chiara protectively in his arms as Parck took an involuntary step backwards, shock etched across his features.

"A Jedi? My stars, Thrawn, what could you have possibly been thinking?"

"I have been with Chiara far longer than I have been with the Empire," Thrawn pointed out stiffly, keeping the tone of his voice in tight check. He left unsaid that his commitment to her also took precedence over his loyalty to the Empire, but he knew that the Captain could read that in his face and infer it from the brief conversations they'd had about Chiara in the past.

"And you think that will matter to the Emperor or Darth Vader when they find out your wife is a Jedi? They will kill you both."

Thrawn felt Chiara flinch at Darth Vader's name, the implications of the Captain's words painfully clear to her, even without knowing the full story. His eyes glittered as he stared hard at his friend. "And that, Captain, is precisely why they can never know."

He could feel Chiara's silent tension growing and sense the questions on the tip of her tongue. She kept quiet, though, clearly understanding this was not the time to ask them. Instead, he felt her mental touch ghost over him, seeking answers. _No, Elor'endil_, he thought at her_. I give you my word that I will answer your questions, but now is not the time. I only ask that you let me tell you myself, rather than pulling them from my mind. _He continued to hold his Captain's gaze as he deliberately silenced his thoughts, waiting for Chiara's response. He felt her press deeper into his mind for a moment before the pressure of her probe vanished entirely.

Thrawn let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He had known there would be a time when the boundaries they had established regarding this mental connection would be tested, but he hadn't expected the initial trial to be over such a powerful and emotionally-charged issue. He was fully aware that she could have wrenched the answers from his unwilling mind, had she so chosen, yet she had responded to his request with what he interpreted as the mental equivalent to squeezing his hand and withdrawn. Their relationship had been built on trust and deep mutual respect, but Thrawn was exquisitely aware that the circumstances they found themselves in would test that trust and respect to the extreme.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to hide her from them?" Parck finally asked, missing their silent exchange.

"For the moment, I had intended to leave her here, on the _Springhawk_. Daithi will care for her until we return. I haven't developed a long-term solution, yet," he admitted. Chiara stiffened in his arms at the mention of leaving her behind, making Thrawn curse silently. Again, this was not the way he had wanted her to hear this news and he had hoped to have a few more days to see her through the worst of her withdrawal and securely on the road to recovery before they were recalled to the Empire.

Parck sighed. "If you were anyone else, Thrawn, I would say you are mad to think you can keep this from them. If anyone can pull it off, though, it is you. I served with a number of Jedi during the Clone Wars and had nothing but the utmost respect for them, so I am willing to go along with this, for now." His lip twitched. "Besides, I owe you that much to make up for that Twilek."

It took a considerable amount of effort for Thrawn to hide his reflexive wince at that memory. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Parck snorted softly. "I wouldn't thank me just yet, Thrawn. I get the impression that I'm not the only one blind-sided by this conversation. I'll give you two some space, but I expect you on the bridge in one hour."

"Yes, Captain."

Thrawn waited until the door had slid shut behind the Captain as he left to prepare the _Strikefast _for the imminent departure before turning to Chiara. The unreadable expression on her face and lack of reaction somehow troubled him more than her typical fiery response would have. He felt her featherlight mental touch stroke across his sense, asking his permission. He nodded once in response to her unvoiced question. To his surprise, he could almost feel her touch as she examined his emotions and reactions to the conversation. It reminded him of the way she liked to run her fingers through his hair; there was something very familiar, intimate and tender to the touch.

Chiara sighed softly after a moment and withdrew until the pressure of her mind became little more than an intangible shadow on the edge of his consciousness. "Just when were you planning to tell me that this new Empire that you are part of is run by a Sith and that Jedi are enemies of the state?" There was no accusation in the question, only an undertone of sadness.

"I didn't want to tell you any sooner than I had to, Chiara. You have more than enough to deal with and I did not want to add to it when it would make no difference in the long run when you found out about it," he told her softly. "Perhaps I waited too long. It was never my intent for you to learn about it like this."

He saw a flicker of pain in those blue eyes that stared out at him. "The Emperor, is he the Darth Sidious you spoke to about _Outbound Flight_?"

"He is."

"And he killed all of the Jedi, didn't he?" Her voice trembled as she asked the question. Thrawn couldn't quite tell if it was from the shivers that continued to wrack her body or from her emotions. Probably both, he decided.

"He gave the order for their executions, yes."

A single tear slid down her cheek. "I am the last of the Jedi, then." Thrawn nodded, wishing there were something he could do to soften the blow. "And you work for him." A second tear followed the first, leaving a trail down her pale cheek, and he could hear the accusation in her voice, now.

Thrawn sighed. He had been quietly dreading this inevitable conversation since the initial shock and relief of finding her alive had worn off and the repercussions of her survival set in. He had made a number of decisions that he had known she would have never gone along with, had she still been alive. Had she been with him, he would have acted differently, but there was no going back, now. He wasn't sure how to make her see that, though.

A shiver wracked her gaunt frame and another tear escaped down her face. Unable to bear seeing her in so much physical and emotional distress, Thrawn reached out to wipe the tears away, but she slapped his hand away vehemently.

"Don't touch me," she bit out, clutching the blankets closer about her thin shoulders. "Did you think I would be okay with this, Thrawn? That I wouldn't have a problem with the fact that you work for the man who is responsible for destroying the Jedi and our way of life? _Outbound Flight _was bad enough, Thrawn, but now you're actively and knowingly collaborating with a Sith, even after I told you what they are. A Sith who slaughtered every one of the people I worked with and trained with for almost my entire life. The Jedi are servants and guardians of peace, Thrawn, and he slaughtered them all. He even killed the children, too, didn't he?"

There was no denying the wholesale slaughter that the Emperor had ordered of the Jedi. Still, the answer lodged painfully in Thrawn's throat. "Yes." He noted with concern that her shivering was becoming increasingly pronounced as she became more upset. "I will point out that was before I joined the Empire, though," he told her, trying to deflect some of the anger he could see building in her.

"And you think that matters, Thrawn? Your precious Emperor is still a Sith and a butcher!" she spat.

"What would you have me do, Chiara? I swore an oath to the Empire at a time that I thought you were dead. I would have never done it if I had known you were alive, but there is nothing I can do to change that, now," he snapped, losing hold of the tight rein he had been trying to maintain on his reactions. He regretted it immediately when she flinched away from his sudden anger as if he had struck her.

The anger that flashed in her eyes as she opened her mouth to reply matched his and for a moment he was afraid this would become the first argument where either of them actually raised their voices, but instead of words, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a low moan. She was shaking violently from head to toe and he could hear her teeth clattering together. Chiara tucked her knees up to her chest and pressed her forehead against her knees, huddling into a tiny ball instinctively to try to preserve warmth. His anger instantly vanished at the sight. Ignoring her impotent glare, he pulled the blankets back up over her shoulders where they had slipped down. He waited for several minutes until her shivers abated slightly before trying again. "Chiara-"

"Don't," she interrupted him, all the anger gone out of her voice, leaving only hurt and exhaustion behind. "Just don't. I can't do this right now, Thrawn. It will have to wait until you get back."

"As you wish," he told her, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. She was right - she didn't look strong enough to continue the conversation. Her face was deathly pale and she looked utterly exhausted.

"Tell me one thing, though. What was the Captain referring to when he said he owed you one for the Twilek?" she asked after a moment, a hint of curiosity creeping into her voice.

Thrawn winced. This wasn't likely to be much easier for her to hear than the fact that he served a Sith had been. "I think perhaps that story would be best left for another day," he told her.

"I want to know," she told him in a tone that brooked no argument.

He sighed. She had only used that tone with him twice before, but he knew from experience that there was no evading her question. "When I graduated from the Imperial Academy, the Captain insisted on taking me out to a tapcaf to celebrate. Our relationship and the fact that I had lost you came up in the course of the evening. He suggested that perhaps it would make it easier to move on if I had another relationship, however brief..."

"So you slept with a Twilek?" Chiara finished for him, her expression a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

Thrawn felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. "Yes. I regretted the decision almost immediately, but now I rue it even more. I meant no dishonor to you, Chiara, and it was only once."

"_Only_ once? I don't believe this," she seethed, glaring at him with as much strength as she could muster, still shivering uncontrollably. It brought to mind an image of a leaf railing against the wind that blew on it. He might have found the thought amusing, under other circumstances.

"I am sorry, Chiara, I would have never-"

"Get out," she interrupted him vehemently, not even bothering to let him finish.

"Chiara..."

"I said, get out!" She snarled at him, sitting up in the bed and giving him what was probably supposed to be a push towards the door. In her present state, though, it was little more than a nudge. Thrawn stared at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. They had fought on plenty of occasions, but never before had she tried to throw him out. She had removed herself a few times when she needed space, but she had never expected him to be the one to leave. _Oh_, he thought, suddenly understanding. _She can't leave_. He doubted she could even make it to the door, given how weak she was. Nevertheless, when he didn't make any move to comply with her demand, she muttered something under her breath and threw her legs over the edge of the bed, clearly intent on trying anyway. Before he could stop her, she stood, but her legs buckled under her and she ended in a heap on the ground.

"Alright, Chiara. I'll leave," he said heavily. "Let me help you before I go, though." Without giving her a chance to object, he scooped her up off the floor and carefully settled her back into their bed. She turned her back on him almost instantly, probably to hide the tears that were streaming down her face. He felt heartsick as he pulled the blankets back over her fragile form. Had he rescued her from the Laehcar only to lose her to his actions while she had been dead to him? He lingered for just a moment, torn between respecting her desire for space and his instinct to take her in his arms and kiss away her doubts and the emotional pain she was clearly grappling with.

"Please go," she whispered, keeping her face turned from him.

With a heavy heart, Thrawn complied. He hesitated for just a moment before he keyed the door open. "Chiara, I am sorry for what I have done. I love you more than anything and there are so many things I would have done differently, had I known you were still alive. I know I have hurt you, but I hope you can understand that these hurts were unintentionally done and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

With that, he slapped the controls and left her alone, unsure of whether or not she would ever let him back in again.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Putting out the sparks of rebellion in the Artisa system proved to be a more difficult task than Captain Parck had anticipated. It took nearly two weeks to ferret out all of the dissenters and silence them, either by coercion or through a more permanent method of ending their rebellious talk. When the orders came for them to return to Coruscant afterwards, Thrawn ground his teeth together in frustration at the delay. He was painfully aware that every day spent away from Chiara would only serve to widen the rift that had opened between them, a rift he wasn't sure he could close.

He had come dangerously close to betraying them both to the Emperor, due to his impatience to return to the _Springhawk_. The Emperor had picked up on his disquietude and it had taken Thrawn considerable effort to convince him that he was simply concerned about the mopping up process at the Laehcar's base. Two of the enemy war cruisers had escaped during the battle and were still at large in the Unknown Regions. If they returned while the _Strikefast _was still in the Empire, Thrawn doubted that Daithi could hold them off for long. Thankfully, the Emperor still had trouble following the unfamiliar and alien thought patterns of his mind and had accepted this explanation.

Thrawn had expected the Emperor to simply send them back out into the Unknown Regions after he made his report in person. Much to his surprise, the Emperor had first promoted him to the rank of Senior Captain and put him in command of the _Strikefast_. The promotion didn't surprise him so much as skipping the intermediate rank of Captain did. It made sense, given that having two Captains of the same rank aboard a single Star Destroyer was generally a recipe for backbiting and disaster, but it was still highly unusual for an officer to skip a rank entirely as he moved up the chain of command. Thankfully, Parck didn't seem to mind that Thrawn's rank now eclipsed his own; in fact, he seemed proud of Thrawn's accomplishments and of the fact that he was rising through the ranks so rapidly.

Now, over a month after he had left, Thrawn found himself standing in the _Strikefast_'s airlock, waiting impatiently as the _Springhawk _completed the docking maneuvers and the airlock repressurized. The door finally slid ponderously open before him and he saw that Daithi was already waiting for him.

"I hear that congratulations are in order, _Captain _Mitth'raw'nuruodo," his friend greeted him, breaking into a wide smile and leaning on the new rank.

Thrawn couldn't help but return the smile, despite the multitude of things weighing on his mind. "Thank you, Daithi," he said, gripping the others arm at the elbow. The smile faded into a more serious expression. "Tell me, how is Chiara?"

Daithi sighed and shook his head. "I won't lie to you, Thrawn, she's not doing well. The withdrawal seems to be past, but her strength hasn't improved at all and we can barely get her to eat. She's trying to hide it, but she's terrified. She's been having three or four nightmares every night and they are getting worse. I've been sleeping on the couch in your quarters so I can wake her and try to calm her down, but there is only so much I can do."

Thrawn felt the rings of tension that had been present since their argument and his departure tighten a few more notches. Clearly, she had needed him while he had been away. Would that make it harder or easier for them to mend the gaping rift that had opened between them? He didn't know. Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, Thrawn noticed how tired and haggard his friend looked. "I know you've done everything you can, Daithi, and I can't thank you enough for taking care of her." He hesitated, not sure he wanted to know the answer to his next question, but feeling just as certain that it was vital he ask it. "Has she said anything about the argument we had before I left?"

"Yes and no. About a week or two after you left, she told me how upset she was with you. She didn't tell me any of the specifics of what you quarreled over, though," Daithi told him.

"And what did you say to her?" Thrawn asked.

Daithi gave a half-shrug. "I didn't know what to tell her, Thrawn. I felt like she didn't understand what you went through while she was gone, so I did explain some of that to her. I hope I haven't crossed a line in telling her about the things that happened to you, Thrawn. I didn't want to betray your confidence, yet I couldn't sit by and listen to her rail at your choices."

Thrawn sighed. "I am sorry that we have put you in this position, Daithi. In truth, I am grateful that you were able to give her some perspective on my actions. I am far from certain that she would be willing to hear that from me. Did that seem to help?"

"I can't read her well enough to know, Thrawn," the other replied. "She was very quiet after that."

"What else did she say or ask you while I was gone?" he pressed, trying to get some idea of how she might have taken whatever Daithi had told her.

"Not much else, other than wanting to know when you were coming back. She's asked me every day for the last two weeks. She obviously misses you, let us trust that is a hopeful sign," his friend told him encouragingly.

"Let us hope, indeed. Where is she, now?"

"I just left her in your quarters. She is sleeping, unless she woke in the last few minutes. With the way she's been having nightmares, that's entirely possible. I didn't want to leave her alone, but I also thought I should talk to you before you see her."

"Thank you, Daithi," Thrawn told his friend. "For everything you have done. Now go and get some rest, you look as if you need it. I'll come and see you once I've had a chance to speak to Chiara."

"Of course. I'll be in my office when you are ready," the other told him.

Thrawn strode off down the familiar corridors of the _Springhawk_, trying to fight off the mixture of anticipation and dread that weighed on him. Despite Daithi's words, he wasn't sure what sort of a reception Chiara would give him. The news that she wasn't recovering well was troubling, as well. He paused outside the door to their quarters to collect his thoughts. Straightening his uniform, he keyed the door open and stepped inside. He glanced around and found Chiara dozing on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and with a datapad in her limp fingers. Thrawn noted that her cheeks were just as pale as they were when he left and she still had dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes. He glanced at her wrists and was gratified to see that those wounds, at least, had healed well.

"Chiara, may I come in?" Thrawn asked politely, halting just inside the door.

Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. "Thrawn!" She exclaimed, straightening up. "I was beginning to think you were never coming back after… well, after the way I acted."

"Of course I came back," he told her, staying rooted in place. "I can hardly blame you for your reactions, Chiara. They were, for the most part, well deserved."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement of his words, then watched him for a moment, as if wondering why he hadn't gone to her. Understanding finally lit her eyes; she had ordered him from her presence and he was still waiting for her to invite him back in. Chiara extended a hand to him. "Thrawn, come in. This is as much your place as it is mine."

Thrawn crossed to her and took the outstretched hand. Still uncertain of how much of a welcome she was willing to offer to him, he kissed her fingertips and sat down a cautious meter from her."Daithi tells me that you haven't been sleeping or eating well."

He could see the strain on her face as she sighed. "No. The nightmares have been getting worse and I needed you here." She slid across the couch, closing the distance between them and hesitantly resting her head against his shoulder. Equally tentatively, Thrawn slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. Her hair, he noted, was already beginning to grow back in a thin layer of fuzz.

"I'm sorry that I had to leave you," he told her. "Especially with things the way they were when we parted. I never meant to hurt you, Chiara. Please believe that."

"I know, Thrawn, but your intentions don't change the fact that you have hurt me. Regardless of what you went through while I was missing, there are decisions that you have made that I don't know if I can live with," she told him, her tone tinged with sadness and pain. There was a not-so-subtle undercurrent of anger there, as well.

For a moment, Thrawn's heart stopped beating, the rings of tension around his chest tighening until it was hard to breathe. Was she telling him that, even with the things Daithi had told her his life without her, she was no longer willing to accept his protection? It didn't happen often, but it wasn't completely unheard of for two Chiss who had been paired to go their separate ways and occasionally re-pair with a new mate. "Chiara..." He could barely get her name out through the sudden tightness in his throat.

Chiara frowned up at him, obviously trying to read his expression and tone. He felt her presence in his mind as she reached out for him with the Force, stroking across his roiling emotions and caressing his thoughts. He fought back the urge to push her touch away; it felt too vulnerable, too intimate if she truly was about to tell him that she no longer wanted to be with him. She must have caught that thought, because the subtle pressure of her mind vanished instantly.

"Thrawn, I don't want that any more than you do," she sighed. There was an ache in her voice that echoed the hollow feeling in his chest. "Can't we find a way to get through this?"

Thrawn looked down at her and saw tears glimmering in her sapphire eyes, along with an undeniable look of fear. Was she as afraid of losing him as he was of losing her, or was it simply that she still needed him to help her recover? Thrawn hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how best to proceed. "I will do everything in my power to make sure that we do, Chiara. I just got you back and I will not lose you again. I cannot. Tell me what I can do." Whatever it was that she might ask of him, he was willing to do it to repair the unintentional damage he had done and to salvage their relationship.

"Help me understand. Why did you join the Empire? It's run by a Sith, a man who destroyed everything that I spent most of my life protecting. I understand that you thought I was dead and I don't think it's reasonable for me to expect you to continue making decisions based off of what I would have wanted. I don't understand how could you possibly have gone to over to a Sith, though. They are the antithesis of everything I have ever stood for. Surely that bears at least some consideration, and you had to know that this Emperor is evil and that any government he runs has to be equally evil."

"I thought about those things, Chiara, I assure you," he told her. "But you also dedicated the more recent years of your life to protecting the Chiss people with me. After they exiled me, I had no way to continue our work. Joining the Empire gave me that opportunity once again. And I now have access to more firepower and military strength than I ever did as part of the Defense Fleet, and I am no longer restricted by the rules of Chiss military doctrine. I have eliminated more threats to the Ascendancy in the last two years than I did in my entire career with the Defense Fleet." He pursed his lips briefly. "And yet, for all that, I would have never made this choice if I had known I would find you again. Perhaps it would have been better if I had struck out on my own, but I made what I saw as the best decision based on the information that was available at that time. And if I had struck out on my own, who knows how much longer it would have taken me to find you, if I ever did?"

She shivered at that thought, but seemed to consider his perspective for a moment. "So this Sith was your way of continuing our work? It seems like an odd way to continue our legacy," she pointed out doubtfully.

"The Far Outsiders are coming, Chiara. You know that. Should I refuse the military might that has been offered to me because it is wielded by a Sith at the expense of the Chiss and all the other people in the galaxy?"

"The ends never justify the means," she said, shaking her head.

"And yet, there is no other way to practically achieve the ends. Is it better to never reach the ends at all?" he countered. "Especially when failure to do so will have such dire and far reaching consequences for the beings of the galaxy?"

"There has to be another way," she insisted stubbornly.

"This was the best and only way that I could see, Chiara. I didn't have you to help me find another path, so I took what was offered to me." He paused and took a deep breath, looking into that face and eyes that he knew and loved so well. He had thought about this long and hard on the way to rendezvous with the _Springhawk_. "Yet, for all of that, I understand that my service to the Empire is not something you can accept. I cannot ask you to compromise your beliefs or to join me in service to one who is your enemy." He took a deep breath. "If you ask it of me, I will leave the Empire for you."

"You would do that for me? You would walk away from it all, if I asked?" Chiara asked, her eyes wide. Thrawn noted that her tone had finally softened with that second question. Was she going to take him up on his offer? He considered the choice once more, knowing that once he answered her, there would be no going back.

He swallowed. "I would."

Chiara studied his face for a long moment and he felt her mental touch ghost over his awareness once more as she examined his thoughts. He could see in her eyes that she understood what he was offering. He would break his oath of service and dishonor himself for her, and they would spend the rest of their lives on the run from the wrath that the Empire would certainly unleash upon them for his betrayal. He would give up his vision of a galaxy set in order and able to stand against the onslaught that they both knew was coming when the Far Outsiders reached them, and he would do it for her.

"I cannot ask that of you," she said finally. "I will not. How can I ask you to break your own oath of service to preserve mine? This is as much a part of you as being a Jedi is part of me. I would not diminish who you are to avoid my own discomfort with the fact that you serve the Empire. The Force called me to Csilla to be with you and I have to believe that also means it has called me to be here with you, today. There has to be a way for us to continue working towards our goals that will not require either of us to sacrifice our honor."

If there was, he couldn't see it. "Perhaps there is. It will not be an easy path to travel, though," he warned her.

Chiara gave him a wry smile. "Since when have we ever had an easy path together? This one will just be a little more difficult than the others."

"More than a little, I suspect. But I will travel this path with you, if you are willing," he told her, once more amazed by this incredible woman and her heart. She had given up everything for him once, already. To his way of thinking, she had every right to expect him to do the same for her, yet she was offering to try to find a way for them to move forward that would allow him to continue to seek the fulfillment of his vision of a galaxy united that could stand against the impending invasion. Even after all that she had suffered, she still was unchanged at her core, that much was clear.

"I am. For the moment, though, the only traveling I want to do is to bed. Will you help me, please?" she asked, all seriousness abruptly vanished from her tone.

"Of course." Thrawn replied with a half-smile, grateful for the opportunity to put off further discussion, for the moment. He needed time to think and to find a way to make this work. It was likely to prove to be one of the most intricate puzzles he had ever been faced with. Chiara wound her arms about his neck as he crossed the short distance to their bed and helped her slip between the covers. The mountain of blankets they had used to try hold back her chills was gone, Thrawn noted; a small but welcome sign of her recovery.

"Come to bed," she murmured, already starting to drift off.

More than willing to comply with her request, Thrawn kicked off his boots and slipped in beside her. He folded her tenderly in his arms, feeling his tension fade away as she snuggled against his side. They were far from finding a complete resolution to the issues that faced them, and he didn't doubt that there would be more heated discussions in their future, but at least they had both made the commitment to finding a way through this, together.

"Thrawn?" Chiara said sleepily.

"Hmm?" he asked, trailing his fingertips across her pale cheek.

"You're still not off the hook for the Twilek."


	21. Chapter 20

AN: Thanks for the favorite, cousinitt!

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**Chapter 20  
**

By the time Chiara woke again, Thrawn had come to the conclusion that the only practical way to keep the Emperor and Darth Vader from finding out about her was for her to never set foot in Imperial space. He had briefly considered smuggling her into his quarters on the _Strikefast_, but abandoned that idea quickly. Once there, she would never be able to leave and he knew she would go stir crazy before too long. She needed something to do. Although he didn't like it, the best solution to the issue of keeping her safe and hidden from the prying eyes of the Emperor was for her to remain in the Unknown Regions. He knew she wouldn't like the idea of being separated every time he had to return to Imperial space any more than he did, but it seemed like the only possibility.

Thrawn felt Chiara's presence in his mind before he felt her stir beside him. He looked down to find her clear blue eyes gazing quietly up at him. Even though she had only taken a brief nap, she looked far more rested.

"It's amazing what a difference it makes to sleep without having nightmares," she said in answer to his thoughts.

Thrawn frowned. "Daithi mentioned that you have been having a lot of them. Is it really that severe?"

She nodded. "I have been having four or five a night. Daithi has done his best to help me, but I needed you."

"I know you do. I am sorry that I had to leave. I believe I should be able to stay for a few months, this time." Barring more rebellious activity arising that he needed to stamp out for the Emperor, he knew. For such a fledgling government, there was already a remarkable amount of dissent and sometimes blatant defiance of the Emperor's new rule.

Chiara sighed and ran her fingers over his uniform. She stopped when she reached his rank insignias. "Is this different from what you wore, before?" she asked, examining the arrangement of the colored squares.

"It is," he confirmed. "I was promoted while I was away."

"Really? What rank are you, now? I don't think I even knew what you were, before."

"Senior Captain. I am now in command of the _Strikefast_."

Thrawn noted that her eyes lit up with pride, despite her disapproval of his service to the Empire. "I do believe that congratulations are in order, Senior Captain Mitth'rawn'nuruodo," she said with a grin. She stretched up and kissed his jawline. Her cool lips set his skin on fire and he pulled her up to where he could reach her lips with his. He flipped her over gently and pressed her into the bed, their lips locked together.

She was just beginning to work on the fasteners of his uniform when his comlink picked that rather inopportune moment to chirp at him. Thrawn growled in annoyance. "This is Thrawn," he answered shortly, flicking the annoying thing on.

"Thrawn, it's Daithi. I think you might want to get up to the bridge. We have two unknown _tap'vsupah_ class ships on the radar."

"I'm on my way," Thrawn told him. He flicked the comlink off and looked down at Chiara. "I'll be back soon, I need to get back to the _Strikefast's _bridge."

Chiara sighed wistfully and Thrawn knew she wished she could accompany him. "Be safe and I'll see you soon," she told him.

* * *

Chiara did her best to wait patiently for Thrawn to return, but it wasn't an easy task. She wasn't accustomed to letting him head off into the excitement without her. Any time the Springhawk had been involved in a battle, she'd always been on the bridge with him or leading a ground team. She pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, waiting. She stretched out to the Force and tried to meditate to calm herself, but, as was the case of late, a blind panic seized her just as she was about to relax into the trance. She found herself gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

This is ridiculous, she thought to herself, struggling to use Jedi calming techniques to slow her heart. I am safe here_. I shouldn't be afraid of using a trance. And it's not like I'm really even vulnerable when I'm in a meditation trance, I can snap out of that instantly. _Still, even though her ability to use the Force had returned as the drugs cleared from her body, she had yet to be able to use any sort of trance without waves of fear washing over her and threatening to drown her in their depths.

Perhaps, with Thrawn back, she could try it again. It was only when he was with her that she truly felt safe. At all other times, she had a lingering feeling of unease and anxiety that she couldn't quite shake, no matter how many time she ran through her calming techniques. Falmi had assured her this was normal and would fade with time, but she still hated the way it made her feel.

_Thrawn_. It was good to have him back and to have their argument at least somewhat smoothed over and put behind them. She'd spent a few days after he left fuming and wondering how he could have possibly done something like joining the Empire. It hardly seemed like something the man she knew and loved would do. It was only after she vented her frustrations to Daithi one night that she had begun to understand. Daithi had gently pointed out to her that she wasn't the only one who had suffered during her absence. When he related to her the events that surrounded Thrawn's trial and subsequent exile, as well as what he knew of Thrawn's time in Imperial service, her heart broke for him. It didn't make it easier for her to accept his choices and actions, but it helped her to see that the reason why they didn't seem like something the Thrawn she knew would have done was because he had been changed by losing her and then by having his own people turn their backs on him.

The more she thought about it and the way he had been treating her since she had woken up, the worse she felt about her reaction to him. As the days stretched out into weeks and her nerves started to fray from lack of sleep and from the constant fear that oppressed her, she started to worry that he was never coming back, that he had decided that her broken mind and body weren't worth the effort. That was when the nightmares began to shift and intensify. It was no longer the simple dreams of memory that tormented her as she slept. Now, in her dreams, Thrawn stood dispassionately by and watched as the Laehcar tortured her. No matter what she said or how much she screamed in agony, nothing could move him to help her. That was when Daithi had started sleeping on the couch in an attempt to assuage her fears and to soothe her when he had to wake her from yet another nightmare.

Hopefully, now that Thrawn was back and they'd come to at least somewhat of an agreement to find some way to move forward together, those dreams would subside. Her brief nap in his arms had been peaceful enough.

The door slid open, interrupting her thoughts and making her jump. Thrawn strode in, a broad smile on his face.

"Chiara, we have a visitor whom I believe you will be glad to see," he told her, crossing to the bed in three long steps. Daithi was close behind him, an equally enthusiastic expression on his face.

Chiara's eyes flicked to the door and a small gasp of surprise escaped her lips as a familiar, petite figure stepped into the room. "Anisi!" she exclaimed.

"Hello, Chiara," the other greeted her primly. Her eyes sized Chiara up, clearly assessing her condition. "It's good to see you alive."

"It's good to be alive," she said drily. "What are you doing here? Did the Ascendancy send you?"

Anisi's lip twitched. "Not exactly. I liberated two newly constructed heavy cruisers from the shipyards to bring you as a 'welcome back' present."

It took Chiara considerable effort to avoid gaping at her friend. Quiet, rule-abiding Anisi stole two ships from the Ascendancy? She could only imagine the uproar that the First Ruling Family must have been thrown into by Anisi's actions. "That's quite a welcome back present," Chiara observed.

"Well, I was that pleased to hear that you had been found," Anisi sniffed. "Besides, I've been planning on joining Thrawn since before Daithi left. I stayed behind for a while to feed them information on activities in the Ascendancy and to make sure that he had warning if High Command decided to go after him. It would seem that they are secretly pleased that he is taking the fight to our enemies, rather than waiting for them to hit us first. They just won't admit it."

"I'm not sure they will keep that opinion when they find out that you pocketed two of their new warships," Chiara pointed out.

"They will simply confiscate my property and funds to pay for the ships," Anisi said, waving her down. "They will never attack us - they know that they could never hope to defeat Thrawn."

"If you say so." Chiara still wasn't quite convinced. "Sit down and tell me what I've missed in your life, Anisi."

Thrawn and Daithi excused themselves to allow Chiara and Anisi the chance to catch up. The two of them spent the next few hours chatting about Anisi's promotions and the events in her life. Anisi graciously didn't say anything about the fact that Chiara dozed off halfway through her description about the battle she lead that had resulted in her promotion to Vice Admiral. When Chiara woke again, chagrined, she found Anisi sitting quietly and working through reports on her datapad, waiting for her to wake up again. Her friend picked right back up on her story where she had left off. She finished by telling Chiara about how she had managed to organize a large enough group of warriors to join Thrawn's efforts and about their plot to steal two warships straight out of the spacedocks.

"There's one thing I don't quite understand, Anisi," Chiara told her friend. "I'm quite surprised that you were willing to leave the Ascendancy. I'm delighted to have you here with us, but I would have thought that your family ties would have held you there. Why did you leave it all behind to join us?"

Anisi stared at the painting hung above the bed for a moment, clearly deciding how to answer that. Finally, she dropped her gaze to Chiara's face. "I care a great deal for you and for Thrawn, Chiara, and you know that. You're right, though, I probably wouldn't have left simply for that. The deciding factor was that Thrawn isn't enforcing the rules against pairings between Ruling Families."

Chiara frowned at her friend. "I wasn't aware that you were even interested in any-" she broke off, interrupting herself as the pieces suddenly fell into place. "Wait, you and Daithi…?"

That earned her a smile. "Ever the perceptive one," Anisi said softly. "Yes. Daithi and I have been involved for several years, now. I've tried to get him released from his Family and into the First, but I haven't had any success. His Family refuses to release him. The First Ruling Family will never release me, not given the standing of my blood family."

"So you left so you two could be together," Chiara finished for her friend. "Have you accepted his protection, yet?"

"No. We were waiting until I could get away. Soon, though."

"I'm happy for you, Anisi. I'm sure you will both make each other very happy," Chiara told the other warmly.

"I really have you to thank for this. I don't know if Daithi and I would have ever had the nerve to go against tradition and do this without you and Thrawn setting the example."

Chiara grinned at her friend. "I didn't realize that Thrawn and I had that much influence."

Anisi laughed. "You have more influence than you realize. You two have developed quite a following back on Csilla. I won't be surprised if more warriors start trickling in, now that word has gotten out about how successful Thrawn's strikes have been."

"And we have two very nice heavy cruisers to crew, now," Chiara pointed out.

"We do, indeed. I will give you a tour of them, once you are up to it. They really are top of the line," Anisi told her. "In fact, I have been thinking that you might like to move into one of the commander's suites. They are much larger and more comfortable than what you have here in the _Springhawk_."

"Won't the captain want the suite?" Chiara asked. The extra room did sound very nice, she had to admit.

"No, the suites are reserved for senior officers or for visiting members of the Ruling Families. A captain would never expect to use one of them. Besides, Thrawn did say that you will probably be commanding one of them, once you have recovered," the other informed her.

Chiara's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?"

Anisi made a face. "I probably should have let him tell you that. But why not? You've proved yourself more than capable of running a base on the occasions that he was out on reconnaissance runs or when he was recalled to Csilla for a time."

"No, it's not that," Chiara told the other, a frown creasing her forehead. "I guess I'm still getting used to the idea that I can't be with him to help him with the _Strikefast_. I understand why I can't. I just wish there was another way."

Anisi winced sympathetically. "I can understand. I'm sure this has been a big adjustment for both of you."

"You have no idea," Chiara told her friend ruefully.

They both looked up as the door slid open to admit Thrawn and Daithi, again. Thrawn was carrying a tray that had some delicious smelling dish on it. "Visiting hours are over. It's time for you to eat," he told her, sitting down beside her and passing the tray to her.

Chiara was tempted to shoot him a mock glare, but given the tentative state of their relationship and recent argument, she was afraid he might misinterpret the expression. She settled for rolling her eyes, instead. "Because I clearly can't eat while visiting?"

"According to Daithi, you've barely been eating at all," Thrawn pointed out. "You will never regain your strength if you won't eat."

"I know. I was too worried about us to eat, though," she confessed.

To her surprise, Thrawn sat down beside her on the bed and kissed her in front of their friends. "Yes, but I am back now, and we will work through this, so you can relax. Now, I brought this from the _Strikefast_'s mess for you and I expect you to eat all of it," he told her with mock sternness as he handed her the tray.

"Sir, yes sir!" she said, giving him her best approximation of a salute. His answering chuckle was like music to her ears. In that moment, surrounded by their friends, she knew that they would, indeed, be okay.


	22. Chapter 21

AN: Okay, guys, I'm ready to start plotting the next story, since this one is starting to wind down. I've written the draft of the rest of the chapters through the ending, I just need to let them settle, make sure they feel right and edit. I'm thinking of doing a few short stories before I tackle anything else that's really big. Does anyone have anything in Thrawn's timeline they would like to see me do? If so, please let me know and I will consider it. I do intend to write a full-length story about his campaign against Nuso Esva, at some point. Anything else I should hit?

* * *

**Chapter 21  
**

_White-hot agony coursed through Chiara's body, her back arching in pain as she writhed against her restraints. Through the haze of pain, she could see her tormentor looming above her, his face twisted into the Laehcar version of a malicious smile. Over his shoulder, she could see Thrawn standing quietly at attention, looking on with an expression of aloof disinterestedness as she suffered. As she had in so many dreams before, she reached out for him, crying out for him to help her, or to at least end her suffering once and for all. He watched her coolly, unaffected by her desparate pleas. _

_Abruptly, the dream shifted and Thrawn wasn't even paying attention to her plight, anymore. His attention was wrapped up in the Twilek dancing girl in his arms, his lips firmly planted on hers, his hands moving over her green-skinned body. The Twilek broke away from his kisses long enough to shoot Chiara a wicked and gloating smile. _

_Chiara clamped her lips together stubbornly, determined not give the girl or her Laehcar torturer the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. Her tormentor adjusted the controls on the hated and all-too-familiar device until the agony mutliplied exponentially. Her vision ran red with pain, blocking her view of all else. A scream tore from her unwilling lips, rending the air like a screech from the restless undead of Coruscant legend. Still Thrawn paid her no mind, his hands moving to take off the Twilek girls's rather skimpy top. _

Cool hands grasped her shoulders, shaking her gently and cutting through the agonizing pain. She was distantly aware of warm lips pressed against her forehead.

"Chiara, it's alright. It's a dream. Just a dream," a familiar, comforting voice murmured in her ear, even as the Thrawn in her dream looked over at her with a cruel, cold smile.

She hovered for a moment, suspended between wakefulness and the dream, struggling against the hands that sought to restrain her- or was it the chains that held her to the torture table in her dreams? A low moan escaped her lips, even as the unending scream continued in her nightmare.

"Chiara, wake up. You are safe, you are home. I'm here," the voice tried again.

She knew that voice from somewhere and she felt as if it should be coming from Thrawn, but his lips were once again busy with the dancing girl's. Confused, she tried to focus through the pain to remember where she knew that voice from and where else it could be coming from, if not Thrawn. She abandoned the attempt as the agony built within her and simply clung to the voice, eager for any escape from pain that threatened to overwhelm her and swallow her whole. As she latched onto it, she broke free of the dream with a jerk, coming fully awake.

"Thrawn?" she gasped, clutching at him like a life raft in a storm at sea.

His lips brushed her forehead again and he squeezed her hands gently. "Yes, I am here," he assured her. "You were dreaming again. It's alright."

Chiara trembled as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his protective warmth. She reached out to the Force to calm herself and then used it to touch Thrawn's thoughts, taking refuge in the quiet steadiness of his mind. He kissed her lightly on the lips, a feather light caress to soothe her fears. She flinched back from his touch as an image of from her dream rose up before her of the Twilek wrapped around him in such an intimate way and his uncaring manner as he watched her suffer. The very thought of another woman in his arms turned her stomach and stoked the embers of her anger into a blazing hot fire once more.

"Don't," she told him in a tone as chilly as the inhospitable surface of Csilla, pressing her fingers to his lips to stop him. Somewhere in a corner of her mind, she knew this reaction was unreasonable and that she couldn't hold him accountable for the actions of the Thrawn in her dreams. She couldn't restrain the hurt and betrayal that coursed through her at his actions, though.

Thrawn's response was almost instant, both mentally and physically. He pulled back from her slightly, still keeping his arms about her, but only loosely. She could feel his surprise,too; never before had she refused his touch after one of the nightmares. "What is the matter?" he asked softly, his brow furrowing in concern.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the last vestiges of the dream that still clung to her, but she couldn't quite shake the anger towards him that was boiling just under the surface. "Nothing," she told him, fighting to keep the bitterness out of her voice; her anger wasn't entirely unjustified. After all, he had freely admitted to having an one-night stand with another woman.

"It certainly doesn't sound like 'nothing,' Chiara. Tell me what's wrong," he persisted.

Still she hesitated, torn between knowing that her reaction wasn't rational, yet feeling justified in her anger and also worrying about the somewhat tenuous ground their relationship seemed to be standing on, at the moment.

"Chiara?" he prompted after a moment when she made no answer, still weighing her response.

"I'm thinking," she told him.

"About what? Your dream?" he asked, the lines etched into his face deepening further. She could both hear the concern in his voice and feel it in his sense.

With a sigh, she gave up on trying to find something else to tell him. She wasn't in the habit of lying to him, and even if she did, she suspected he would see right through any falsehood she tried to spin for him. "Yes, about my dream. It was different, this time."

"Different how?"

"I'd rather not tell you, Thrawn," she told him a bit stiffly, looking away from those glowing eyes.

"And why is that?"

This time, her sigh was one of exasperation. He clearly wasn't going to let this go. "Because I know I'm overreacting and I don't want to upset you or start fighting with you again. Not after we only stopped arguing yesterday."

If possible, he looked even more perplexed. "Why would we argue over your dream, and how was this one different?"

"Alright, fine, I'll tell you," she said, trying unsuccessfully to filter the venom out of her tone. "It was different because you were in it, this time. You have been for the last two weeks or so. The torture is the same - it's always something that really happened while the Laehcar had me. But you are there, in my dreams, and you simply watch while they do it. It doesn't matter what I say or how much I beg you for help, you just watch and do nothing." She could sense how stricken Thrawn was by this and the sudden resurgence of guilt at how he had left her in Laehcar hands for over five years. "This was worse than normal, though, because you weren't alone. There was a Twilek dancing girl with you. She was-" Chiara broke off, choking on the words. It made her feel sick to even think about it. "Well, let's just say that you were too wrapped up in her to pay any attention to me. You wouldn't even look at me."

Chiara heard Thrawn's sharp exhalation as the breath left him in a rush. His sense twinged painfully and she winced inwardly, as well. "Chiara, what am I supposed to say? I am sorry. That night was indisputably one of the worst decisions I have ever made. I never expected that you would have to suffer for my foolishness and for that I am truly, deeply sorry. I have thought many times that I would take that night back, if I could. Now I wish it even more. And that you have to dream about it..." He sighed. "I will not ask you to forgive me, not yet. This is something beyond forgiving, at least for now. I swear to you that I would never be knowingly unfaithful to you. Give me a chance to prove that to you and to prove my love for you. Perhaps someday you will be able to forgive me for my infidelity, however unintentional it might have been."

She could feel the shame and self-reproach rolling off of him like billowing storm clouds, along with a deep sense of wanting to make things right with her and to make up for his affair in any way that he could. She struggled to organize her thoughts to a point where she could give him an answer as he waited patiently for her to speak. Her mind strayed back to the things Daithi had told her about what Thrawn had gone through while he thought her dead. It hadn't made the fact that he slept with another woman easier for her to accept, but at least it had helped her to understand the desperation that had driven him to do it.

"Thrawn, I don't see how it could possibly count as infidelity when you thought I was dead," she started, fighting to keep her tone under control and not betray the hurt that she still felt, in spite of her somewhat new-found understanding of his actions. "I wish it hadn't happened, too, but it did and I will have to live with it. I'm not sure how to do that right now, though. Even though I know you didn't do it deliberately, it still hurts that you were with another woman. It makes me intensely jealous, too. I can't help wondering if she pleased you more than I have, or if you will be thinking about her when I'm strong enough for us to be together in that way again."

Thrawn was silent for a moment, as if considering his next words. "I understand that I have hurt you and I will not downplay or belittle that very justifiable feeling. Jealousy is not entirely necessary, though, I can assure you. Captain Parck suggested it might distract me from missing you, but it had the exact opposite effect; the only thing I could think of was you. Nothing felt right. If I had not been so heavily intoxicated, it is likely that I would have simply left rather than going through with it."

Chiara's eyebrows shot up. "You were drunk when you slept with her?"

Thrawn arched one blue-black brow in return. "I certainly wasn't about to do something like that sober."

"I've never even seen you the slightest bit drunk," Chiara said in astonishment, momentarily derailed from her frustration with herself for her dream and her hurt at what Thrawn had done so many years ago.

"It is not a sensation that I enjoy. In fact, I normally make a concerted effort to insure that I do not become intoxicated. This incident only affirmed that preference. That and the hangover that resulted."

She snorted softly. "Hangovers certainly are not enjoyable." Chiara paused and took a deep breath. "Thrawn, I don't need time to forgive you for sleeping with the Twilek. You were lonely and I get that. If I really had been dead, I would be glad that you at least tried to move on. I need you to understand that I am still hurt and a bit angry, though. That's probably going to come out on occasion, especially while I'm trying to get back to my normal self. Apparently, it's coming out in my dreams, right now."

Thrawn nodded. "Of course. You have been given a great deal to cope with, especially in light of what you have been through. I can hardly blame you for any reaction you may have, however out of character it may be."

"I'm glad to know you feel that way. I will admit that it worries me when I realize that I am reacting irrationally, but can't help myself. I know you must find me ridiculous, at times," she told him, trying to relax in his arms.

"Not at all, _Elor'endil_. You may be reacting differently from how you normally would, but I would not call any of your reactions irrational. It all makes complete sense, given what you have been through," Thrawn assured her.

Chiara sighed in relief. "For all our issues and conflicts, Thrawn, I am so very grateful to be with you. I know this hasn't been easy for you, either, and you have been wonderfully patient through all of this. I love you."

Thrawn held her a little closer. "It is the least I can do, Chiara. I love you more than I can say and I hope you know that. It is my privilege and my honor to be with you through this and I am looking forward to helping you recover your strength and finding a new way of continuing our lives together."

"So am I, Thrawn, so am I."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The time passed swiftly by and Chiara grew stronger with each day and began to regain some of the weight she had lost. With Thrawn's assistance and under Falmi's watchful eye, she began the long and arduous task of rebuilding the muscle tone she had lost through years of confinement and disuse. The work was painful and left her exhausted, but she persevered with the stubbornness that Thrawn had come to admire and expect in her.

Nearly a month after Thrawn had returned to the Unknown Regions, he sat with her in their new quarters on board the _Icefury_, one of the two warships that Anisi had brought with her. The Commander's Suite was spacious for being on a warship. It more than twice the size of their modest accommodations aboard the _Springhawk _had been. It was a true suite, with a comfortably furnished living area and separate bedroom. As had become their routine, they sat together on the lounger after her morning workout. Thrawn reviewed the most recent status reports from the Strikefast's crew while he absently stroked the few centimeters of Chiara's dark auburn hair that had already grown out. On anyone other woman, the cut might have looked boyish, but the short, messy style somehow complimented Chiara's elegant features. Her cheeks had lost their sunken look and the dark, bruise-like circles under her eyes had all but vanished.

He still caught frequent glimpses of fear in her eyes, but overall she was much steadier and less afraid than she had been when he first came back. He could see that her uneasiness lingered, driven back only temporarily by his presence and touch. He hoped that she would regain her confidence as her strength returned and she felt that she could defend herself, once more. Her irrational reactions towards things or events that triggered memories of her captivity continued, but she was now able to control her reactions, to some extent. Only the day before, she had asked him to help her overcome her fear of using any sort of Force trance and the vulnerability that came with it. He had been impressed by her determination and willingness to face her fear head on as he spent several hours with her, holding her protectively in his arms and thoughts as she strove to push back the paralyzing terror that beat mercilessly on her when she tried to use a simple meditation trance. It had taken her most of the afternoon, but she was eventually able to stretch out to the Force and drop into a meditation trance again with relative ease. He was proud of her determination and perseverance as she fought to regain her old abilities.

Now, as he glanced down to where Chiara snuggled quietly against his shoulder, reading, he found himself thinking back to the day that now seemed part of their distant past when he had first offered her his protection. Considering what he was planning on asking her later in the evening, it was going to become even more similar to that long ago night that had marked the official beginning of their relationship.

He felt Chiara twitch beside him. "Would you either ask me whatever it is that you keep thinking about or just stop thinking about it?" she complained in a teasing tone. "I'm trying to read and it's distracting."

"The other alternative is that you could stop listening to my thoughts," he growled at her, raising one eyebrow in mock annoyance. He knew that she could sense his amusement and wouldn't take his severe tone seriously.

"Where's the fun in that?" she retorted, matching his tone.

Thrawn smiled back at her. "Indeed. Since you are already paused in your reading, perhaps I should ask you now."

Chiara straightened and gave him her full attention, picking up on the serious note that entered his sense and voice. "What is it?"

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I have been thinking about something you said a few weeks ago. I am aware that you said it mostly in jest, but I have thought about it a great deal, since then."

Chiara arched one shapely eyebrow at him. "And what exactly did I say?"

"It was when I introduced you to the Captain as my wife. You objected that I have never married you, therefore implying that I shouldn't call you my wife, even though Chiss pairing is the equivalent to your marriage traditions."

"I remember," she said, clearly not sure where he was going with this.

"I have been thinking; when you accepted my protection, we were in Chiss space and you had left behind the traditions and laws of your own people in favor of those of the Chiss. Now, though, the opposite is true; I have traded the traditions of the Chiss for the traditions of the inhabitants of your regions of space. It seems to me that perhaps you would like to fulfill the traditions of your own people, now that we are no longer operating according to the directives of the Ascendancy."

"What exactly are you saying, Thrawn?" Chiara asked. He could see a hint of understanding in her sparkling eyes, but she clearly wanted to be sure that she was interpreting his words correctly.

"I am asking you to marry me, Chiara Matao," he told her plainly, running his fingers across her pale cheek.

For a pair of heartbeats, Chiara didn't respond. Suddenly, a smile lit up her clear, blue eyes like a sunbeam breaking through a bank of clouds, banishing every last lingering vestige of pain and fear from her face. She took his hand and kissed it gently, her soft lips brushing across his skin. "I would be honored to be your wife, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," she told him. "I accept your offer of marriage."

* * *

They selected a date not far in the future, both fearing that he could be recalled to the Empire at any time. Anisi was fascinated by the idea of a wedding ceremony and spent an entire afternoon locked in her quarters with Chiara, going through her ample wardrobe to try and find a suitable dress for Chiara to wear. Normally, none of the clothes that fit Anisi's petite frame would have fit Chiara, but she was still underweight enough to be able to squeeze into a few of her gowns.

As the day approached, Thrawn watched in satisfaction as Chiara slowly blossomed and came to life again. Her smiles nearly always reached her eyes again and her pert words and tone were filled with her old, familiar fire once more. The color began to return to her cheeks and the lingering pain that haunted her sapphire eyes all but vanished. She seemed less and less afraid and her nightmares began to decrease in their frequency. The improvements he saw in a few days alone made the disquiet that he felt over their impending marriage worth it. Not that he doubted the decision to marry her according to the rules and traditions of the Empire and the Republic before it that she had belonged to, but she had told him that, according to Ka'asaran tradition, they each had to write their own vows. She had provided him with several examples of famous vows written by Ka'asaran lovers over the years, but none of them felt right to Thrawn. They were too flowery and emotional for his taste and felt disingenuous. The more he worked on his vows, the more he began to appreciate the simplicity of the Chiss tradition of a man simply taking a woman into his home and his care. With the wedding looming, he finally gave up on writing anything so expressive and opted for a simple declaration of his love and commitment to her. It was far simpler than any of the examples she had given him, but the words rang true.

* * *

The morning of the wedding, Chiara woke slowly from where she lay with her head pillowed against Thrawn's chest. When she opened her eyes, she found that the was already awake and watching her quietly.

"Good morning," he greeted her softly, kissing her forehead.

She stifled a yawn and gave him a shy smile. "Hi."

Thrawn stroked her back, ignoring the scars that crisscrossed her skin. "No matter how long we are together, _Elor_'_endil_, I will never tire of waking to your lovely face."

She blushed at that and snuggled a little closer in his arms. "I love you, Thrawn."

They were still laying quietly together when the door chime sounded and Anisi whisked in. "Time to get up! I need to get Chiara ready," she chirped.

"There's not that much to get ready," Chiara told her, rolling her eyes and putting her arms around Thrawn. She closed her eyes tightly against the light from the bedside lamp that Thrawn always left on for her, now. "I'm not getting up yet."

Anisi harrumphed. "Fine. I will go get your breakfast, and when I come back, you will either get up or I will drag you out of that bed."

In answer, Chiara snuggled a little closer to Thrawn, listening to the steady beating of his heart and savoring the feel of the bare skin of his chest against her cheek. She reached out and brushed his mind, letting his mental warmth flow over her and fill her awareness. She could feel his anticipation, as well as his curiosity about the wedding. He had done ample research on the topic, she knew, but he had never actually been to a wedding. She also sensed the pleasure he got from knowing how much this meant to her and how much she was looking forward to marrying him. She had been taken by surprise by just how much his offer of marriage meant to her; when she had accepted his offer of protection nearly 16 years ago, she hadn't had any qualms about exclusively following the Chiss practices for pairing and ignoring the traditions of her own people. But, somehow, after all the years they had spent apart and also in light of their more recent and near disastrous arguments, it seemed so right and so natural that they do something to reaffirm their love and commitment to each other. Fulfilling the Ka'asaran traditions of a wedding seemed like the perfect opportunity to bind themselves closer to each other.

She and Thrawn were still locked in each others arms when Anisi reappeared with two covered dishes balanced on a tray. "Alright, lovebirds, get up," she said, coming in after she set the tray down in at the table in the living area. When neither of them moved, she pursed her lips at them and seized the blanket, yanking it off them. "Up!" She insisted.

Chiara's only reaction was to shiver against Thrawn's side. Thrawn shot Anisi a glare. "Give that back, you're making her cold."

"Well, then, she should get up and put on something warmer than a nightdress," Anisi replied in her trademark tone that was a mixture of prim propriety and biting sarcasm. She was the only one Chiara had ever met that could pull that particular combination off.

Chiara sighed when Thrawn sat up, sliding her off his chest and easing her onto the pillow. He reached for her dressing gown and wrapped it around her shoulders to ward off the cold. He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze before he pulled a tunic on, hiding his perfectly sculpted chest from view. Chiara could feel his discomfort at being half-dressed in front of Anisi and found it endearing. She stretched and carefully slid out of the bed, wary of the weakness that often lingered in the mornings and stole her strength. Thrawn watched her closely, prepared to step in and help if she needed it, but knowing that she was trying to build up her strength with every opportunity that she had. She made it to the living area without incident and allowed Thrawn to pull a chair out from the small table for her.

"After breakfast, Thrawn, you are hereby banished from your quarters until after the ceremony. I need to get Chiara ready," Anisi told him in a no-nonsense tone.

Thrawn's eyebrows shot up as he seated himself beside Chiara. "You are ordering me out of my own quarters?"

"Technically speaking, these are Chiara's quarters. Yours are on the _Strikefast_," Anisi informed him primly.

Chiara could feel Thrawn's mixture of annoyance and amusement at this, but he said nothing and simply passed one of the dishes to Chiara. They ate in companionable silence. Chiara could hear Thrawn going over what she suspected were his vows in his mind, but he was thinking in some language she had never heard before to keep her from hearing them prematurely. He finished his meal first and retrieved his dress uniform from the generous closet in their bedroom. He paused to kiss her forehead before he left.

"I will see you soon," he murmured, running a finger across the tip of her ear.

"I'll hold you to that," Chiara told him, catching his hand and pulling it to her lips.

* * *

When Chiara and Anisi arrived in _Icefury'_s Forward Visual One, they found Thrawn, Daithi and Captain Parck all waiting for them. The trio all looked quite sharp in their dress uniforms, but Chiara's eyes were only for Thrawn. The olive drab of his Imperial Navy dress uniform was an interesting contrast to his blue skin and his blue-black hair picked up odd highlights from the color. His boots were polished until they shone and Chiara was fairly certain she could see her reflection in them, if she tried. He was turned at a right angle when she stepped through the door, giving her a perfect view of his profile against the brilliant backdrop of the stars that were visible through the floor-to-ceiling viewport that stretched across one wall. His glowing eyes glittered in anticipation when he heard the door open and she saw his breath hitch as he caught sight of her.

Chiara brushed at her dress self-consciously, keenly aware of the fact that everyone in the room was suddenly staring at her. She had borrowed a deep red skirt and top set from Anisi for the occasion, one of the few dresses Anisi had that would fit her. Chiara did her best to ignore how much the off-the-shoulder, wrapped style of the top emphasized the gauntness of her shoulders and collarbones and wished there had been time to have something smuggled to her from Csilla. She tried to shake off the discomfort and reached out to Thrawn mentally, seeking assurance from his presence and wanting to share this experience with him. She halted in midstride as his love swept across her consciousness and she felt his deep approval and appreciation of her dress and appearance. She caught a glimpse of herself through his eyes as he slowly took her in. She saw how the deep color of her dress reminded him of a bordeaux wine and how perfectly he thought it complimented her pale, cream colored skin. She had worried that the rich color would only emphasize her lack of color from years of sunlight deprivation, but Thrawn clearly didn't think it did. His gaze lingered on her shoulders, admiring how the fabric seemed to float above her skin and highlighted the elegance of her collarbones and fine neck. His attention traveled down, taking in her curves and admiring the way the skirt swirled about her slender ankles. Even her short hair attracted him. Anisi had managed to tame the short and wild tresses that tried to stick up in every direction as it began to grow out again, convincing the few centimeters of growth to lay against her head in an elegant style.

Chiara took a deep breath, drinking in his steady presence and the glow of approval she felt from him. She smiled at him gratefully as she felt her last lingering bit of self-consciousness fly away. He crossed the room in three long steps to take her hand, coming to a halt at her side. "_Elor'endil_," he greeted her, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. "You are utterly stunning. Even the flame sculptures of the Sluissi cannot compare to your beauty."

Normally, Chiara might have chastised him for flattery, but she could sense how sincerely he meant the compliment. Blushing, she accepted the arm that he offered her. "You cut quite a handsome figure yourself, in that uniform," she told him. He smiled at her, glowing eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement at her compliment and anticipation as he lead her to where Captain Park awaited them. Anisi and Daithi moved to take up position on either side of them, serving as both attendant and witness.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the joining together of Thrawn and Chiara Matao," the Captain intoned. "The sacrament of marriage is one of the oldest and most enduring traditions in the galaxy. It isn't restricted to a single species or culture, but unites many of our cultures and brings us together in shared tradition. To each species, the ceremony may have its own form and meaning, but the intent is always the same; to unite two lives into one. I understand that you have chosen to follow the Ka'asaran traditions and have prepared your own vows. Captain Thrawn, please join hands with the lady and give her your vows."

Chiara felt her stomach flutter as Thrawn turned to face her, enveloping her pale, thin hands in his strong, blue ones. His glowing eyes burned into hers with a passion that she could both see and feel over their bond. In that moment, everyone else in the room fell away and she lost herself in those fiery eyes and in the quiet depth of love that echoed in her mind from him.

"In the presence of these witnesses, I, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, claim you, Chiara Matao, as my wife and lifemate," he began in a rich, steady voice. "I belong to you. I offer my life for you. I give to you my protection, my allegiance, my heart, my soul and my body. I take into my keeping the same that is yours. Your life, happiness and welfare will be cherished and placed above my own for all time. You are my lifemate, bound to me for all eternity and always in my care." His hands tightened over hers briefly as he finished. Chiara's breath caught in her throat at his words and the depth and sincerity of the emotions she could feel running beneath them. She knew that he wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions through words, even when they were alone; it was something that had been ingrained into him by the stoic Chiss culture. She had to admire the skill with which he wove his vows, incorporating elements of the Chiss concept of protection with the more traditional views of marriage. Yet, for all the emotional reserve in his words, she could feel all the things he hadn't said in his emotions and could hear him whispering them to her in his thoughts.

She was only peripherally aware of Parck prompting her to pledge her vows to Thrawn in return. She waited until Thrawn's mental voice fell silent and tasted his quiet anticipation as he waited to receive her vows. She shifted her hands to be on top of his, following the proper Ka'asaran tradition. The strength of his hands and the cool smoothness of his palms filled her awareness, along with the feeling of his thoughts as she held on to their connection through the Force.

She took a deep breath before she began. "I, Chiara Matao, come here today to join my life to yours, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, before this company. In their presence I pledge to be true to you, to respect you, and to grow with you through the years. Time may pass, fortune may smile, trials may come; no matter what we may encounter together, I vow that this love will be my only love. I will never leave you nor forsake you. I will make my home in your heart from this day forward, for as long as the stars shall endure."

Never before had Chiara felt such an intense reaction from Thrawn. He understood fully what she was promising him; no matter what his Imperial service might entail and how much she might disagree with the things he was required to do, she would still be with him and search to find a way for them to continue to move forward. His gratefulness washed over her, along with the promises he made her that he would respect any boundaries she found it necessary to put up regarding her willingness to involve herself in Imperial campaigns and matters. He would welcome and seek her help as he had always done, but he also wouldn't ask her to sacrifice her beliefs and sense of right and wrong to assist him if he had to take a course of actions that she could not, in good conscience, sanction.

"And now I believe you have both prepared tokens of your love and commitment to each other," Parck said, oblivious to the silent exchange that went between them. Daithi passed a small metal box to Thrawn. He drew out a slender, silver chain and stepped around behind her. She felt his fingers brush her skin as he passed the delicate necklace around her neck and fastened it. He moved back around to face her, his fingers plucking up the translucent white gem that hung from the chain, holding it up for her to see. There was something inscribed the heart of the glittering stone, but she couldn't quite read it from her angle.

"It says '_sir vea cacasn'as'_," he told her. "'For all eternity.' May it serve as a reminder of my vow and of my love for you in the times when we must be apart. No matter how many lightyears lie between us, my thoughts will always be with you." He laid the gem against her skin, his fingers skimming across her collarbone as he smoothed the chain back down.

Chiara caressed the shapely gemstone with one fingertip, once again stretching out to his senses to see what the necklace looked like in his eyes. The chain was a finely spun, silver metal that gleamed in the dim lighting of the room. Its delicacy complimented her slender neck perfectly, and the stone that hung from it was small enough to be discreet and easily worn under a tunic or displayed proudly with a dress or less formally structured tunic. Whatever the gemstone was, it seemed to drink in the subtle glow of the starlight and cast it outwards again in a brilliant display of shimmering light that danced across the surface of the gem.

"Thank you. I will wear and treasure it always," she murmured, meaning every word. She reached for his hand and threaded her fingers through his, leading him across the room to the silver crate that awaited them. Inside was a highly rare piece of art from one of the far corners of the Unknown Regions. The Thsekans had an highly unusual star in their system that ejected coronal matter on a fairly regular basis. Every now and then, this matter intersected one of the crystalline asteroids that orbited it, simultaneously blasting apart and fusing the asteroid into a stunning and intricate piece interstellar art. The Thsekans prized these naturally occurring sculptures above all else and many of them spent months at a time searching the space around the star to find even a single crystallized asteroid. Thrawn had tried to obtain one more times that Chiara could count, but his offers had always been summarily refused. Unbeknownst to him, Chiara had been able to secure one of the rare sculptures with Anisi's help just before she had been captured by the Laehcar. It had been her intention to have it sent to the Crustai base with one of the shipments from Csilla so that she could present it to him. Her capture, as well as Thrawn's exile, had both occurred before the sculpture ever arrived in Chiss space, though, and he still remained ignorant to its existence. Anisi had kept it for all these years, fearing that giving it to Thrawn after he returned from his exile would only serve to reopen old wounds of grief. She had brought it with her when she came to join them.

Chiara could feel his curiosity as he slipped his fingers free of hers so he could lift the lid from the crate. He waited until he had carefully set the lid aside before looking inside. She both heard and felt his breath go out of him as his eyes fell on the exquisite crystalsculpt inside. It was roughly three quarters of a meter long and its intricate surface was flecked with veins of ice blue and red from the rock-like material that had encased the crystal prior to its collision with the coronal matter from the star.

"It's called 'Fire and Ice'," she told him. "Or, at least, that is as close as I can translate the Thsekan word. I thought it was fitting reflection of our relationship - two opposing elements that should never be able to coexist, combined into one to compliment each other perfectly and produce a work of absolute beauty."

"Chiara, this is beyond words," Thrawn told her, transfixed by the sculpture. His amazement that she had been able to procure this for him echoed across their link, along with his fascination with and deep appreciation for the piece, as well as the perspective it brought to their relationship. She felt him shake free of his desire to lose himself in the study of the sculpt with an effort and turn back to her with a smile that set his eyes ablaze. He instantly noted the almost imperceptible droop of her shoulders as weariness began to pull at her and slipped one arm around her waist to support her instead of simply offering her his arm as they returned to stand before Captain Parck.

"With these tokens of your affection to seal your vows, and with the power vested in me by the Imperial Navy, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife," Parck said, grinning broadly. "You may kiss your bride, Thrawn."

Thrawn kept his arm around her waist, taking her full weight and lifting her fractionally off the ground to spare her rapidly tiring muscles. He stroked her cheek with his other hand, letting his thumb trail across her lips in a tender caress. His lips followed, barely brushing hers at first, then moving against hers with a blazing passion. The weakness she felt in her knees when Thrawn broke away from her lips had nothing to do with muscle fatigue.

He held continued to hold her close and support her weight as the Captain, Anisi and Daithi all offered their congratulations and best wishes. All the while, Chiara could hear Thrawn whispering silent promises to her in his thoughts. As soon he felt it appropriate, he excused them from their friends and swept Chiara off her feet and headed for their quarters with her in his arms.

"You know, I can walk," she told him, holding lightly to his neck to steady herself. "I'm not that tired."

Thrawn's blue-black eyebrows shot up. "I am well aware of that, _Elor'endil_, however, I had other things in mind for what energy you have left."

"...then again, being carried is quite nice," she amended quickly.


	24. Chapter 23

AN: And we reach the end of yet another story. Thanks to all who have stuck by and kept reading! I'm still contemplating what I'm going to write next for these two. Please feel free to either leave a review with what you would like to see or PM me. Please make sure you follow me so you don't miss the next story!

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Chiara opened her eyes slowly, making a conscious effort to keep her breathing even as she braced for the paralyzing fear that waited for her as she came out of her meditation trance. Thrawn heard the subtle change in her breathing and tightened his arms around her waist. She clung to his presence to anchor herself to the reality that she was safely aboard the _Icefury_ and safe from the clutches of the Laehcar. Even though it had been six years, the horror of waking up as their prisoner was still fresh in her mind and the memory tried to drown out the present as she eased herself out of the trance. Thrawn's lips warmed her temple with a tender kiss, the sensation serving to ground her in the here and now.

"That time seemed easy enough," he observed. "Was it?"

She had gotten to the point where she could consistently reach a meditation trance about a week prior, but now they were working to try and get past the lingering fear that made it so difficult for her to reach the trance. Her progress was slow, but Thrawn's presence helped to assuage her fears and the quiet encouragement she heard echoing through their mental bond strengthened her.

"It's the waking up that is still difficult," she told him, making a conscious effort to relax her muscles. "There's a phase between the trance and being fully conscious again where the memory tends to come back and overwhelm me. It's ridiculous for a Jedi Master to be afraid of using the Force, but I am, at least in this context."

Thrawn's strong hands worked on a knot that had appeared in her shoulder as a result of the tension. "You're not afraid of the Force itself, it's what you will find when you wake up that you makes you uneasy," Thrawn pointed out. "I would say it's a very normal response, given what you have been through. You're doing an excellent job of working through it, as well. Now, did you wish to work on this more, or shall we go to the gym and work on your strengthening exercises?"

"Let's go to the gym, but I have something else in mind, besides just strengthening exercises," she told him.

"And what is that?"

Chiara took a deep breath, examining her mental state and her thoughts to make sure that she wasn't pushing this too soon, too fast. With the improvements she had made over the last few weeks, though, she felt sure that she was ready. "I think it's time for you to give me my lightsaber back."

Thrawn regarded her for a moment, his glowing eyes searching her face. He had kept her lightsaber concealed and out of her hands out of concern that she would hurt one or both of them if she woke from one of her nightmares and had the weapon within reach. She had fully agreed that this was the wisest course of action and that they would wait until her reactions to things were stable enough for her to not be a danger to either of them. Now, under the scrutiny of that red gaze, she was beginning to think he was going to tell her it was too soon and refuse to give it back to her. After a moment, he slid out of their bed and took her hand, drawing her after him. He led her to the bank of drawers built into one wall of their bedroom and pulled it open. He moved aside a stack of his uniforms to reveal the well-remembered, silvery handgrip of her lightsaber tucked away in one corner. He drew it out and offered it to her silently.

Chiara stared at the familiar hilt as it rested in his hands, her eyes tracing the words that were inscribed upon the hilt as well as upon her heart. Her hand shook slightly as she reached out and closed her fingers around the cool metal; it had been so long since she had held a lightsaber. Even after so long, the handgrip still felt as if it belonged there. Thrawn stepped around behind her and slid his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder so he could watch as she turned the silver hilt over in her hands.

"I wish I could touch your mind as you do mine," he murmured in her ear. "Tell me what you are thinking."

A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. "That might be interesting, if we had a two-way connection. Still, one-way is better than nothing. I was just thinking how good it feels to hold my lightsaber, again. It makes me feel... I don't know, complete, somehow. Like some part off me that I didn't realize was missing is back. I know it's only a piece of metal and some wiring, but I feel stronger with it."

"That is understandable. You've spent most of your life with a lightsaber as your constant companion. You've lived and served with that blade, and it has saved your life more times than either of us can count," Thrawn told her, tightening his arms around her. She was standing a bit straighter than she had since her ordeal began, too.

"Let's head to the gym. I'm itching to run through some of the old training exercises and I don't want to risk accidentally breaking something here," she said.

"A wise plan," Thrawn said dryly, allowing her to lead him through their living area and to the door. "I would be most displeased if you broke the newest addition to my art collection. It was given to me by a very important woman."

* * *

When they reached the gym, Thrawn sat down on one of benches to watch as Chiara moved to the center of one of the mats. She assumed her fighting stance and a well-remembered snap-hiss rang through the air and a silvery blade sprang into existence. Several warriors that he recognized from the _Springhawk_ paused in their workouts and moved to watch. The smaller ship was docked with _Icefury_, giving her crew more room to roam during their off-duty hours and access to the superior fitness and recreational facilities afforded by the huge warship. Thrawn knew that word would spread rapidly throughout the crew that she was wielding her signature weapon once more; they had all been eagerly but respectfully following Chiara's recovery. Once one of them saw or heard anything about her improvements, it was quickly circulated throughout the rest of the force. If they had respected and followed her before, they held her in reverence now, that much was clear. He had overheard several of the warriors who had been responsible for dismantling and destroying the horrific torture devices of the Laehcar observing to each other that no Chiss could have ever survived for even half as long as Chiara had. Instead of looking down on her for her weakness and fear, they esteemed her for her determination and the hard work she had put into her recovery. He knew that they were eager to interact and serve with her once more.

The sound of the energy blade sizzling through the air brought Thrawn's attention back to the present. His eyes followed her as she went through a familiar set of calisthenics, holding the brilliant weapon in front of her and wielding it with perfect accuracy as she moved. Thrawn noted that there was a grace and surety in her movement that he hadn't seen in her since she left on that ill-fated mission so long ago. The lingering fear and tension melted away before his eyes as she moved through the old exercises and a glimmer of her former confidence slowly crept in to take its place. He watched as her muscles flexed and stretched with the movements, sliding effortlessly beneath her perfect, pale skin. She was still far from the fighting trim she had been in, but her hard work was beginning to show in the increasing firmness and tone of her muscles. Although she was still noticeably underweight, she regained nearly half of what she had lost and Thrawn could no longer feel each individual vertebra when he held her.

She continued her solo dance for nearly twenty minutes, an expression of intense concentration evident on her face. The lightsaber knifed through the air with absolute precision, seeming more like an extension of her arm than an object she hadn't held in over five years. He could see her begin to tire, but she pushed herself to continue for several more graceful moves. Finally, her skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat and her muscles trembling with fatigue, she closed down the lightsaber and sank down beside him in the bench. The watching warriors melted away to allow them some privacy, returning to their own individual routines.

"You overdid it," Thrawn observed to Chiara, brushing a strand of sweat-soaked hair from her forehead.

"No more than I have been with my other exercises," she told him, leaning wearily against his shoulder. "Besides, it feels so good to be holding my lightsaber, again."

"You've been working very hard," he agreed, slipping one arm around her waist and brushing her flushed cheek with a kiss "It looked like you haven't even missed a single day of training with your lightsaber. Some skills never fade."

Chiara made a face. "I can tell, even if you can't. Still, considering that it has been almost six years, that wasn't bad."

"You seem more at ease now that you have it, as well," he pointed out.

She seemed to consider that for a moment. "I suppose I am. It feels good to know that I could defend myself again, if necessary. I don't feel quite so vulnerable. Not that I expect to need to defend myself here," she added hastily, as if she was afraid he would take that as an insult.

"I understand, _Elor'endil_, it is simply the feeling that you can defend yourself, regardless of whether or not you are likely to find yourself in a situation where you must do so. Now, you should eat after expending so much energy. Let us go back to our quarters so you can clean up. I'll have our meal sent over while you do so," Thrawn told her, getting to his feet and offering her his hand.

She accepted his help and pulled herself to her feet. "That sounds good. Except, I think I'd like to eat in the mess, today. I know the crew of the _Springhawk_ has been anxious to see me, and they've all been very patient about waiting until I was ready. I think it's time, now." She glanced over at the closest warrior who was still watching surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye as he continued his workout. "You can let everyone know, I'll be in the mess in about an hour."

The warrior straightened to attention. "As you command, Jedi," he told her before executing a perfect military turn and hurrying off to alert the rest of the crew.

Thrawn couldn't hide his smile; he had been waiting for her to reach this benchmark in her recovery, as well. After weeks of slow but steady progress, she was moving in leaps and bounds, today. "They will be glad to see you."

* * *

Thrawn was pleased to see how well Chiara handled the attention of the crew over lunch. She remembered the names of almost every crewman that had been on the _Springhawk_ before her capture, and the few that she had forgotten, he was able to supply to her silently through their mental link. A number of the new crew members clustered around them, as well, and she welcomed these warmly. By the time they left the mess and headed back to their quarters, Thrawn was confident that the crew would serve her faithfully in his stead and even give their lives for her.

"Thrawn, I had a thought," Chiara told him as they headed back to their quarters. "About how we can make things work with, well, with your service to the Empire. Do you have things you need to see to when we get back to our quarters, or can we talk?"

Thrawn glanced at her in surprise. He had been mulling over their situation, as well, but had yet to come up with a complete solution that he thought she would agree to; there were simply too many aspects of Imperial service that she would never agree with. "There is nothing so pressing that it cannot wait for an hour or two, Chiara."

She simply nodded in answer and continued on, clearly preoccupied with her thoughts. Thrawn keyed open the door and followed her into their quarters when they arrived. Thrawn settled comfortably into the couch next to her and waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

"I think we've already established the fact that I can't go back to the Empire with you," Chiara started, taking his hand and distractedly tracing the lines on his palm. "And Anisi let slip that you intend to give me command of the _Icefury_, is that true?"

A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "For a Vice Admiral, Anisi has a remarkable amount of trouble with keeping classified information from you. But, yes, that was my thought. You have spent enough time observing and assisting me with the Crustai base and the _Springhawk_, I believe you are ready for such a command. It will give you something to do when I have to return to the Empire, as well. It was my thought to appoint a captain for the ship who will handle the daily duties of running the ship and allowing you to do what you do best - planning and directing the battles and allowing the Force to prompt you."

Chiara nodded. "I think this would work well. Did you have anyone in mind to be my captain?"

"I hadn't made up my mind, yet. Is there anyone in particular you would like me to consider?" Thrawn asked.

"What about Thisa? He's proved himself to be a capable competent commander and we work well together," she suggested.

Thrawn considered for a moment. "Yes, I believe Thisa would do well. I had also thought to transfer some of the bridge and weaponry crew from the _Springhawk_ to the _Icefury_. They know you and are accustomed to working with you. I believe it will help to ease the transition, since our newest arrivals are not accustomed to taking orders from a non-Chiss. They seem to have already come to respect you simply from your reputation and I doubt it will take you long to win them over as fully as you did the crew of the _Springhawk_."

"I hope so. So, then, when you are in the Empire, Anisi and I will continue to work on cleaning out the various threats from this region. I also suggest that we establish some sort of a base, somewhere. It will make it easier for you to find us when you return from the Empire and I think we may get more recruits from the Ascendancy if there is a place where they know they can find us," she suggested.

"An excellent idea and one that I have been thinking about, myself. Perhaps that should be your first order of business, when you are ready to take command," Thrawn told her. "I suspect I will receive orders to return to the Empire in the not too distant future. Until you have found a suitable location for a base, we will agree upon a rendezvous point where you will either leave a coded message with your location or a scout to guide us."

Chiara nodded. "That would certainly work. Now, about your work with the Empire and with a Sith..." She paused and took a deep breath. "As I've already said, I won't ask you to break the oaths you have taken. I still wish you hadn't made them, but that cannot be helped, now. My proposal is this: I still want to be part of your life and your career as much as I can. If there is a mission or a task that would present minimal risk of me being discovered, let me help you with it. I may not support the Emperor, but I will always support you in any way that I can. Understand, though, that I will not violate the Jedi codes or my conscience. If you ask me to do something and I tell you that I cannot, please respect that and try not to see it as me not backing you."

"Of course, _Elor'endil_, I would never wish to put you in a position where you have to compromise your morals because of the choices I have made. If there are tasks with which you can assist me, I will most assuredly ask you to do so." He paused. "I appreciate that you are willing to try to find a way to be part of this, even if it is not what you would have chosen. I do not relish the idea of being away from you any more than you do and this may help to lessen the time that we have to spend apart."

He could feel her mental touch deepen, brushing across his mind in reassurance. "I just hope this Empire really does turn out to be an improvement over the corruption of the Republic. The fact that the Emperor is a Sith worries me, though. I don't want to see the people I spent so long serving suffer under his rule. The Sith have committed so many atrocities over the last millennia. I fear that he may ask you to take part in them, too."

Thrawn considered this for a moment. "Thus far, I have not seen any atrocities in the Emperor's rule. There has occasionally been harsh punishment for malcontents and dissenters, but even that has been justified. And do you truly believe that I could participate in such an act, even if I was ordered to so?"

"No, Thrawn, and I didn't mean to imply that. I just worry about what will happen to the people I once protected. Surely you understand that. Even if I left the Republic years ago, I still care about them. My disagreement was more with the Jedi Council and the Senate than anything else," she told him. "Besides, I know your conscience is too strong for you to commit the kind of atrocities I fear. And for the smaller things which you may be ordered to do which I consider morally questionable, I will do my best to look past. You cannot defy orders without risking your life and breaking your oath of service. I will not ask you to do that."

Thrawn took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "That is all I can ask of you and more. This may not be the ideal future we once imagined, Chiara, but it is far better than the future that I thought awaited me only a few months ago. I am grateful that we have this chance, together."

"So am I, Thrawn." She gave him a radiant smile. "This will work. It may not be an easy road, but since when have things been easy for us? I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is where I am supposed to be; I had a vision from the Force this morning while I was meditating. I don't know how far it was in the future, but your hair was beginning to gray just a little, so I assume that it was quite far. We were standing together on the deck of a warship and you were a wearing white uniform. Parck was there, and so was a man I didn't recognize. The entire galaxy, including the Ascendancy, stood behind us as we faced the threat of the Far Outsiders. I may not be very good at interpreting visions from the Force, but I think even I can understand this one. This is the second vision that I have been granted from the Force that made it abundantly clear that I belong with you. No matter what, I swear to you that I will stay beside you and help you achieve this vision of a galaxy united against the Far Outsiders. I love you, Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and it is my privilege and my honor to walk this path with you."

Even as Thrawn reached for her and pulled her to him, his lips seeking hers, his mind didn't miss the fact that she had seen him in a white uniform. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction in the knowledge that, although the Ascendancy had once spurned him and tried to destroy his dreams of reaching High Command as punishment for taking an outsider as his mate, he would still achieve that sought-after rank through his service to the Empire. And, with Chiara's help, when the Far Outsiders finally arrived, they would be ready for them.


End file.
